Opaleye: A Dragon's Love
by RZZMG
Summary: A rare Opaleye dragon has set-up a lair in the ruins of Malfoy Manor. Hermione Granger is dispatched to check it out. Not all is as it seems though. A dragon's love is forever. Post-Hogwarts. Drama/Romance/Mystery/HOT SHAGGING. Draco x Hermione. Story won 1st Place for "BEST STORY TWIST" at the 2010 Winter Round of the HP Fanfic Fan Poll Awards-see profile for details. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: Enter The Dragon

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of its characters, nor do I profit in any way from the use of said characters and situations in this writing.

**Timeline: **April-June, 2000

**Main Characters: **Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Charlie Weasley, Harry Potter, Bill Weasley

**Story Details: **Post-Hogwarts-EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?) format. This is a Mystery, Romance, Drama, Angsty story with a happy ending.

**Summary: **A young dragon has claimed the ruins of Malfoy Manor for its lair. The once-fine estate has fallen into disrepair with its former masters having left England after the war (Lucius was sentenced to Azkaban for twenty years, and Narcissa and Draco moved onto the continent to hide from their social shame). Hermione Granger is sent from the Dept. of Magical Creatures to investigate with consultant, Charlie Weasley, and to hopefully capture the rare Opaleye for removal and re-release into its natural habitat. However, as she should know by now, all is not necessarily as it initially appears in the wizarding world.

**Rating: NC-17 **(explicit sexual situations – including snogging, petting, oral sex, masturbation, consensual sex-virginity loss; profanity; alcohol consumption)

**Images to go along with this fic (characters, outfits, places mentioned in the story - remove all spaces to load the URL properly): http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / Opaleye**

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_**OPALEYE: A DRAGON'S LOVE**_

**By: RZZMG**

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_**CHAPTER ONE: Enter The Princess**_

"It's an Antipodean Opaleye!" Charlie spoke in whispered awe, his cerulean gaze as wide as saucers, his every muscle frozen on the spot.

Her heart pounding a mile a minute as the territorial, enraged dragon screeched in defiance at them, Hermione mimicked the expert at her side, her knowledge of the species having come merely from academic research, and not from actual life experience, as her friend's had. "I thought they were native to Australia and New Zealand," she murmured under her breath, her grip on her wand tightening as the sweat from her palms threatened her grip.

"They are," he affirmed, "and not usually this aggressive." Stepping back very slowly he kept his gaze on the dragon's every move, looking for that one cue – a facial tick, a claw retraction, a tensing in the shoulder muscles – that would indicate the beast was about to charge. "Back off, nice and slow."

Hermione followed Charlie's lead, but the moment her foot slid one step in retreat, the dragon's glittering, multi-colored eyes swung in her direction and zeroed in on her. For a moment, she could have sworn there was a strange, startled widening of the lids. Her body froze in response.

"He's a smart fellow, this one," Charlie admired in a low voice, but she wasn't really paying attention to her companion just then, as she felt the oddest sensation: her whole magical aura vibrated and was caressed. The sensation was fleeting, almost as if the dragon supernaturally tasted her essence to determine her identity and strength. Her impression was that it was meant to serve as an enchanted scenting of sorts – like animals greeting each other - but the aftereffect was that it left her body tight as a bowstring and breathless with pleasurable tingling.

None of her research on dragons had indicated that they were rational beings, merely animals. Each had their own brand of magic that they employed, but it was not as a wizard, a goblin, a house-elf or a centaur would use; more like a dementor or a vampire – it was part of their innate species talent, and was relegated to a specific purpose (like sucking souls or entrancing a victim through fear to stay put). In the case of most dragons, their magic was mainly focused upon detection spells, to hide their roosts, their young, and themselves from prying eyes. Some species, like the Romanian Longhorn and the Peruvian Vipertooth used enchanting spells to render their victims defenseless, much like cobras swaying back and forth, so they could get in close for the kill. The Opaleye, typically the shyest of all dragons, was said to avoid confrontation with humans as often as possible, and there was conjecture that it used its captivating, glittery eyes to lull a person into a trance before turning invisible and flying off, but no one really seemed to know the truth of that rumor.

"He seems to like you," her ex-boyfriend's older brother informed her.

That statement jarred Hermione from the enthrallment. She blinked, gasped at the realization of what had been happening, and took that step backward that she'd meant to take earlier. Moving too quickly, however, had the effect of making the dragon agitated. It shifted its long, sinuous neck once, shifting from left to right paw at the same time and growled. The sound was clearly a warning.

"Granger, stop," Charlie hissed as she made to move back again.

The Opaleye once more blinked and the full force of its magical weight fell upon Hermione's aura. This time, it not only 'sniffed' her, it also entered her mind. Random images of her time at Hogwarts flashed through her head… First Year entangled in Devil's Snare, Second Year Polyjuiced as a cat, Third Year flying Buckbeak to rescue Sirius, Fourth Year dancing with Viktor Krum, Fifth Year fighting in the Department of Mysteries, Sixth Year looking down upon Dumbledore's crumpled body, Seventh Year being _Crucio'd_ in this very ruin of a house by Bellatrix Lestrange and watching Harry defeat Voldemort in the Final Battle.

Interspersed throughout the flipping of her memories flashed the visions of those who had most influenced her: Harry and Ron, Ginny and Luna, Neville and Seamus, Snape and McGonagall, Dumbledore and Lupin, Molly and Arthur, the Weasley family, her parents, and even, to her surprise, Draco Malfoy.

In particular, the dragon focused on this last character - silky, platinum-blond hair, taunting grey eyes, and Slytherin green and silver robes. The memories slipped through her mental grasp like running water, mercilessly pulling her with them, reminding her of all the horrible things he had said over their time together, and of the year he had sat silently in sorrow, growing increasingly wane as the months progressed and how sorry she had felt watching the regression of his former magnificence.

Her recollections of the last twenty-three months were also routed: returning to Hogwarts for an eighth year to sit her very successful N.E.W.T.s, breaking up with Ron that first Christmas after the war ended and throwing her concentration into her studies to keep her sorrow under wraps, getting the offer letters from the Ministry soon after getting the highest test scores that Hogwarts had ever seen, choosing to work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and split between the Being and Beast Divisions equally, taking on the additional task of assuring the care and management of dragons throughout the U.K. - that it was legally conducted and compassionately enforced. And just this morning, getting the notice that a dragon had claimed Malfoy Manor and volunteering to go out with Charlie on the reconnaissance, her curiosity about the place – and the fate of its owners – a large part of her reason for wanting the task.

Stumbling, she grasped her head as the dragon let the mind-magic go, slipping from her consciousness as easily as a good Legilimens. Her temples ached from the mental assault.

Charlie caught her around the waist before her knees could crack upon the broken marble flooring of what was once a grand ballroom, the gilded ceiling of which had caved in with the entrance of the dragon. "I'm fine," she shook her head, trying to clear it of pain. "It probed my memories." With a curious glance up at those shifting, chromatic lenses, Hermione felt her heart catch again. "Can they… do that? I didn't think dragons had the power of Legilimency."

Shaggy ginger hair shook. "I didn't think so, either." He gathered her close in brawny arms and slowly, they got to their feet again.

The dragon shifted its gaze wholly upon her now. It tilted its head in a queer human way, and lifted its left paw, then put it back down. It did this several times.

"I think we should go for now," Charlie offered, keeping her pinned to him and moving them towards the exit. This seemed to agitate the Opaleye, who kept lifting its left paw. It screamed at them as they reached the doorframe that led into the former Drawing Room, where they were to Apparate away. "I'm not sure how it flew all the way to England, but we'll get a team in here tomorrow to capture and subdue it. Then we'll see it transported back to its rightful home."

_No... go._

The voice in Hermione's head was pained, desperate. Was it the dragon speaking to her?

_No… go. No go. NO GO!_

Her head exploding in pain, Hermione gripped her skull and panted. Charlie guided them to a hidden spot and palmed his wand. "Granger, hold on. I'm taking you Side-Along."

Pressing her face into his spicy-orange scented shirt and slamming shut her eyes, feeling nauseous, Hermione held onto her friend's waist and tried not to vomit all over him.

Just as that familiar fishhook sensation behind her navel began, the dragon spoke to her again.

_Gran…ger._

**X~~~~~X**

St. Mungo's discharged her with nothing more than a migraine potion and certified her clean of all charms, hexes and curses. After assuring Charlie that she was quite capable of taking the Floo home from the hospital's chimney, and promising to meet him by one o'clock the next afternoon at the Ministry to Apparate with the capture-and-release group he would assemble, she arrived back in her cozy, older London Muggle flat in a puff of green smoke around six o'clock that night.

Immediately, Crookshanks started meowing, wanting his supper.

"Fat cat," she fondly stroked his fur as she opened a can of his favorite ocean fish vitals. "Have you had a good day?" Crooks ignored her except for an occasional lazy wag of his tail, completely enraptured by his dinner.

With a sigh, she threw off her coat, hanging it from the hook near the front door, and put her wand and the second dose of potion (just in case her headache returned within the next twenty-four hours, the Healer had argued) on her small dining table. Toeing-off her shoes, opting for her favorite, fuzzy slippers, she checked her answering machine. Her mother had called from her hotel in Sydney to let her know that she and her father had arrived safely and were fine. Her parents had decided to take this year's anniversary trip to Australia, and were shopping for a retirement home in the land 'Down Under'. Apparently, her mum was riding the high of good sex, too, because her voice was positively ecstatic. The woman even giggled as her father's voice came in over the line telling her that he had to 'take your mum away now.' It was clear what they'd done as soon as they hung-up a few seconds later.

Shaking her head, Hermione made her way into the kitchen to make dinner, trying not to ponder too hard on the reminder of how pathetic she was in the department of love.

Sitting on her couch later with a bowl of her favorite café-styled smorgasbord - chicken with rice, veg and cheese – she snuggled up under her soft, quilt throw and watched television. Immersing her senses in the dramatic woes of fictional characters on the screen helped her to forget her own melancholy for a while. It was inevitable, however, that the success of couples on her favorite prime time shows would only bring her down. Switching off the telly, she sat in silence, finishing her food, lost in thought.

She and Ron had given it a go after the Final Battle. They'd messed around some when there was time for them to be together, but it soon became apparent that their temperaments too willfully clashed for them to make a relationship work. Once the war was over, and school didn't continually force them into each other's presence, they'd gone their separate ways – he off to the Auror apprenticeship program with Harry, she off to pass her school tests. They'd never gotten back together after that separation, keeping up the façade by writing each other the occasional letter, but as the months drifted past, the letters became fewer and fewer, until they'd finally agreed by Christmas that some things were better left alone. She'd spent the next sixteen months after that dedicated to her career and occasionally appearing for Ministry charity events to raise money for one important cause after the other.

And in all that time, she still hadn't gotten laid. She continued her lonely trek along 'The Virgin Road,' as Ginny called it.

Even Neville had shagged, for Godric's sake! Hannah Abbott had been all over him after his rather brave stunt of cutting off Nagini's head – with no care as to the fact that they were in public, even. The world was truly an upside down place if her formerly socially-inept Housemate could find time for a good fuck and she couldn't.

As for the rest of her social circle, Ginny had Harry now, Ron had started dating Susan Bones, and Luna had met Rolf Scarmander. All of her closest friends from school had seemed to hook up with either each other, or Muggles, or people who had graduated before them by a few years, and she hadn't met anyone interesting enough to catch her fancy.

Of course, she'd gone out of her way to avoid entanglements after Ron, because truthfully, she didn't have the time to commit. She'd chosen the path of a career woman, and that meant there was no room for romance in her life. It was pitiable, really, because just then, she could have seriously loved to have a man between her legs. Just once, she'd like to know what it felt like.

Charlie had been right: if she wasn't careful, she'd end up an old maid, living with cats.

Sighing again, she went back into the kitchenette and cleaned up her mess. Then, she headed into her bedroom, shucking her clothes and throwing them into the hamper on her way to the shower. Adjusting the water temperature, she climbed in and scrubbed up, shampooing and conditioning her hair with her favorite honey-jasmine scented product.

Squeaky clean, she stood under the spray a few moments longer, closing her eyes and letting the warm water run over the back of her neck. Feeling adventuresome, she slowly let her hand drift over her left nipple, and experimentally plucked it, feeling desire vibrate down her whole body. Ooh, that felt nice…

Pearlized lids opened, and a pair of iridescent, glittering eyes stared at her from behind her closed, dark lids. They flared in recognition.

_Come._

The voice was powerful, the magic behind the words extremely compelling.

Hermione jumped, leaning her back against the wall and looking about with a paranoid fear that gripped her heart, closed her throat. With a trembling hand, she shut off the water and strained to listen. Nothing moved beyond her glass shower stall. The steam-filled bathroom was eerily still. Opening the door, she moved to grab her towel and quickly dried off, tying it about her, and cracked open the door to her bedroom…

Crooks walked in as if the world was his personal stage, completely unconcerned for the heightened state of her dread.

Immediately, Hermione knew everything was fine. If it wasn't, Crooks would be hiding under the bed, spitting mad at any intruder - the big chicken! Reaching down, she petted her familiar with a huge sigh of relief and then made her way towards her dresser in her room, feeling the odd need to have clothes on, as if they served as a defensive barrier.

Her imagination, that's all it had been. She'd been stressed out for the past month, her work and charity schedule taking its toll. Coupled with this afternoon's exciting event and her earlier anxieties, it was natural for her to have fallen asleep on her feet and begun dreaming. She'd done it before, lulled by the comforting warmth of the shower. Yes, that's all it had been.

As she stepped into her knickers and pulled them to her hips, her head started aching again. Closing her eyes against the minimal amount of light from the bedside lamp, as even that tiny bit of illumination hurt, she collapsed onto her bed, gripping her skull.

_Come. Gran… ger. Come._

Crooks was on her in an instant, sticking his wet nose against her forehead and pushing. He meowed in concern.

This was no fantasy vision. The dragon, somehow, was talking to her. Deep inside, she knew it to be true.

_Come. H… elp._

Clutching her heart, Hermione shivered on her coverlet, panicking, hiding her eyes in the coverlet.

_Who are you?_ she asked with her thoughts, hoping to make a connection, but in doing so, she only made her head throb worse and no answer was forthcoming. There was, however, an insistent… _need_… for her to get up and go to the voice, as if she were being enchanted by a Vipertooth or Longhorn. She'd never heard of such a thing, as usually the victim had to be directly before the dragon for it to use its wiles. How was any of this possible?

_Come. Help. Granger._

Her heart and mind tugged towards an unwilling conclusion – that the beast somehow needed her help – she made her decision. She would take the risk and go back to Malfoy Manor - but she would not be going unprepared.

**X~~~~~X**

Armed with a pre-dosed Wit-Sharpening potion, her wand and the little remainder of the migraine potion she'd sipped from earlier, as well as with some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, just in case she needed to make a fast get-away, she Apparated back to the once-splendid manor house in Wiltshire.

As soon as her body settled in the Drawing Room, she felt him in her head again, magically calling to her, willing her to step through the door into the ballroom. Cautiously, she looked around the doorframe…

Sparkling, pupil-less eyes stared into her soul.

Keeping her back to the solid, weather-stained wall, she crept into the room the dragon had established as his home. The beast itself gave off no smell, as reptiles didn't scent of pheromones like mammals, and the area was clean of spoor. There was, however, the fragrance of charred wood and, strangely, roses. The rasping sound of scales rubbing together came as the dragon shifted from its crouch on the floor, adjusting its tail to rest near its front paws.

Overall, it was a splendid specimen, and for a moment, Hermione wished she'd thought to bring a camera, for Opaleyes were notoriously shy and there were only a handful of badly blurred pictures of them over the years.

"I'm here," she announced the obvious, keeping her shaking wand at her side, trying to regulate her fear, knowing that all predators could sense it and were aroused by the scent. "What do you want?"

_Gryf… findor brave._

Thankfully, the potion combination she'd taken earlier was doing wonders to keep her head from hurting too much. "What. Do. You. Want?" she succinctly asked, a touch of anger simmering in her brain, understanding in that moment that the beast was smarter than even she'd given it credit for. She'd terribly underestimated its sentience, and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, knowing now that she'd been lured here by a creature of deceit that was not quite as helpless as she'd assumed. "What help do you need from me?"

The dragon moved with sinuous grace to its feet and lifted its left paw again, its crocodilian digits flexing, revealing sharp, curved talons that Hermione knew could cut a cow in half with one easy swipe.

_Look._

It turned the arm over, and there was the outline of something Hermione prayed she'd never see again.

The scar was shaped like the Dark Mark. Its white outline had no scales covering it, as if those protective coverings had been burned away by the evil spell. Had this creature been one of Voldemort's to call during the Final Battle? There had been a few dragons, she remembered.

"You were one of _his_," she acknowledged with barely concealed disdain. Meeting that weird gaze again, she challenged the dragon now. "Is that why you called me here - to save you from Ministry justice?" It was a well-known fact that any magical creature who had sided with Voldemort during the war was to be outright destroyed. The acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest had been amongst the first to be burned out, their nests destroyed, their numbers decimated to less than a dozen – and their new Queen, who had taken over after Aragog had succumbed to illness, had been warned never to interfere in the world of men again. The dementors had been next, followed by those dragons branded with the Mark. "I won't help you if you willingly aided him. You've been in my mind. You know that." She pointed her wand at the dragon now, bold in her righteous defiance. "Did you voluntarily aid him?"

The dragon turned its head again, measuring her. Its mouth split, and out came the oddest huffing sound – a chuckle.

_Sc…ared, Mud…blood?_

"Oh... my God," she breathed, feeling all the air escape her lungs in one rush. Her grip on her wand almost slipped. She knew that voice. She knew that taunt. But it wasn't possible, was it? Had he transfigured himself? Maybe he was an Animagus?

"Malfoy?"

The dragon said nothing, merely blinked those huge eyelids.

"How?"

_Tra… pped._

She shook her head. "You left for Paris, with your mother-"

_Dead._

One word, and yet it had carried such anger and sorrow.

Her mind jumped about, putting together facts, making assumptive connections. "An escaped Death Eater did this?"

The great head bowed once.

"Who?" she demanded, knowing the list of names that had escaped justice. Working at the Ministry, she kept abreast of such things, constantly worried that she or her parents, or the Weasleys, or Ron and Harry would one day be marked and hunted down by one of the rogues. "Travers? Rowle? Nott?"

A low growl reverberated about the room, and she knew she'd found her culprit. "Theodore Nott Sr. did this to you?"

Another dip of pearl scales and glowing, fierce eyes.

She paused, considering the situation. "Was it a revenge taking on you, for turning traitor at the end?" A second growl shook her knees, but she locked them, refusing to cower before the likes of Draco Malfoy ever again. She tsk'd and snapped. "I'm only trying to discern the facts, Malfoy. Don't get grouchy with me."

There was a pause, and then that chuckle again.

_Al… ways brave._

The dynamics between them suddenly changed, and she relaxed her guard. This was more familiar, this bickering between them. With more foolish courage than she ought to have, she stepped towards him, keeping her wand in her hand, just in case. "So, let me get this straight: you need me to figure out how Nott trapped you in this form and change you back?" Raising an eyebrow, she stared up at his hulking figure. "Did you plan this from the start? Coming back to England for this purpose?"

_No. Did not… rem…em…ber._

Scratching her head, she started pacing in short strides of ten steps, up and back, trying to puzzle through his words to make sense of it all. "You're saying you acted on animal instinct and… what? Came home?"

_Yessss._

It was said in a sort of sigh, as if he were annoyed with her for being so slow witted. Tsking again, she threw him an irritated glance. "And it was dumb luck I just happened across you today. So, what jarred your human memory?"

He silently looked down upon her, and then lowered his head. Hermione froze in mid step, turned and stared up at him. Malfoy or not, he was still a _fecking_ huge dragon, and the species had a built-in mechanism of scaring the wits out of smaller prey. Her whole body started quaking as his snout - with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth - hovered only a foot or so away from her throat.

_You._

Blinking in surprise, she swallowed down a thick lump in her throat. "Me?" It came out as a weird squeak. She took two steps back. "What did I do?"

He inhaled, and the physical drawing in of air pulled at her. He chuckled again, and the smell of cinders and ash permeated the air between them, coating her nose and tongue.

_Fighter._

That made absolutely no sense, and she told him so. He laid his head down near her feet and stared at her in sudden despondency. She could feel it in the weight of his caress across her magical aura again.

_Save. A…gain._

Maybe she was just a sucker for lost causes; she was, after all, trying to help house-elves on the side, despite their recently-formed coalition to stop her. For whatever reason, she reached out and touched Malfoy's scales, drawn to do so by their pearly sheen in the moonlight filtering down through the hole in the ceiling. To her utter surprise, they were hard, but smooth, almost like dried, silken nail polish against her fingertips. "Alright, I promise I'll try my best, Draco."

**X~~~~~X**

"What do you mean the dragon is Draco Malfoy?" Charlie demanded his face as incredulous as the others in the room.

She'd called an urgent meeting this morning with her two bosses, the head of the Beast Division and the head of the Being Division, the Minister of Magic, Charlie (who was the head consultant on the case), as well as Harry (who was always informed any time a Death Eater issue arose, per orders of the Minister, and regardless of the circumstance) and his boss, Gawain Robards, so they could discuss their options.

"Just what I said," she relayed. "I went to see him last night. He made a magical mind connection to me yesterday, and last night, he called me to come to him. I went to find out what he wanted. It turned out to be Malfoy. He's been cursed or something – I haven't quite figured out what the spell is, yet. He claimed it was done by Nott Sr., who has also apparently killed his mother."

Harry hissed in honest fury. He always took any act by a follower of Lord Voldemort personally, as if it was his failure that he hadn't stopped all of the Death Eaters, simply because he'd destroyed their master. It was one of the reasons, she knew, he'd become an Auror – to make up for that perceived fault. "We should never have let them leave England," he reminded Robards again. "I knew it would be too dangerous with Death Eaters still running about."

Harry had gone to bat for the Malfoys during their trial after the dust had settled, recognizing Draco's unfortunate situation and taking pity on his former rival, despite it all. Hermione was a lot less forgiving in that matter, but she'd understood her best friend's generous nature. Too many people had died in the war, and he honestly believed that Dumbledore would have wanted him to act with honor to try to save the young Slytherin from his own folly. It was the same with Lord and Lady Malfoy. Their switch of allegiance at the end had helped turn the tide of the battle, as Lucius had outright killed four dementors, a giant and three giant spiders in his quest to reach his son in the castle. Harry had convinced the Wizengamot that lives had been saved because of those actions, and thus the man had avoided a death sentence, being sent up to the newly-repaired Azkaban prison for twenty years instead. The-Boy-Who-Conquered had done what he could to prevent the couple from being raked over by the fanatically-avenging court system.

Robards considered the political ramifications of the situation more than the moral, Hermione knew from exposure, and she could practically smell the wheels turning over in his head as to how to avoid a public relations backlash. After all, it was his suggestion not to spend his department's budget on the protection of 'turn-coats,' as he'd openly named the Malfoys. "Sir," he turned to Kingsley, his boss. "I believe we should dispatch Aurors to the last known location of the Lady Malfoy to determine if there is truth to this claim. If so, perhaps it will allow us to back track the location of the elder Nott." Everyone in that room knew how dangerous the man was, having been one of Tom Riddle's first supporters. His capture would bring in much-needed positive publicity to the Department, and possibly greater donations to the Ministry coffers from thankful citizens.

It was all cleverly unspoken, but it was there in Robards' weasel gaze - and the Minister, it seemed, understood and agreed. "Very well." He turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, since you seem to have a rapport with this creature-"

"Draco," she insisted, not wanting any of these men to get used to the idea of considering the dragon as just another beast, seeing the potential for Malfoy's doom down that path. After all, would anyone care about the injustice if he - a former Death Eater who had escaped punishment - remained as a dragon and was shipped off to Australia, never to be heard from again?

Kingsley gave her a polite smile. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Since you have an established connection with him, perhaps you could retrieve information regarding the attack he claims to have fallen victim to, so we can send a team to investigate?"

Hermione considered the men before her and nodded once. "I'll go now."

"I'll come with you," Charlie offered with a friendly hand on her shoulder. "It's safer."

"I'd like to go along as well," Harry requested, looking to his boss for permission. "I know Draco well. If this is really him, he'll recognize me - and I'll recognize him."

Hermione huffed in frustration. "It is him, Harry. I _know_ Malfoy."

Emerald eyes bore into her. "Do you?"

It was said so softly, she almost didn't hear. Almost.

**X~~~~~X**

The trio Apparated to the Manor's Drawing Room and Hermione took the lead, her wand in her hand, a barrage of spells on her mind and lips, just in case. "Hello, Draco," she called out as the dragon lifted its head off its paws, waking from a nap. "Charlie's back with me, and I've brought someone else. Someone you know. We think that together we can help you."

As soon as Harry came around the door jamb, the dragon shot to its feet, its wings spread as far as the wide ballroom could accommodate and its every muscle tensed. It snorted, and a small tongue of flame ejected, quickly puffing in and out of existence.

_Potter._

Harry froze, as did Charlie, both men with eyes wide and mouths gaping.

"Ho-ly shite," her crimson-headed friend gasped. "It really _is _Malfoy."

Hermione stood between the two men and the dragon, warily turning her head from one to the other, watching either for any sudden moves. "I _told_ you it was," she tried to make her rebuke sound normal, but weakly failed on the last word upon seeing Harry's brows sink down in concentration.

The dragon squeezed shut its eyes, shook its head and roared, stamping its front paws with enough force to shake the foundation of the house, and Hermione understood what was happening. In an instant, she lunged for Harry and clamped a hand down hard on his shoulder. "Stop it. You'll hurt him with Legilimency," she shouted. "I tried it last night, and it's painful for him for some reason. He can only go one way with it."

Harry released the silent spell he'd spent the last few months perfecting, and glared at her. "That makes no sense."

"Unless it was part of the curse," she countered. "Think about it: Nott wanted _revenge_. If he went so far as to design a spell to force Malfoy into this form, knowing he'd be hunted down because of the Mark on him, wouldn't it also make sense that he'd cover all bases to assure Draco couldn't be identified as human in any fashion? Maybe he erased Malfoy's memories once he'd changed him and made it so that any mind probe would feel like a Cruciatus, causing the dragon to go wild. That would pretty much assure that we'd _Avada_ first, and ask questions later."

"If he was _Obliviated_, then how did he remember you?" Charlie asked, taking the opportunity to get a good look at the Opaleye – a species she knew he'd only ever seen in books, too.

Hermione looked back at Draco. "I'm not sure." She sighed. "I think the Opaleye species has innate mind and aura manipulation magic, because he easily used it on me to read my mind and pick through my thoughts. I think that helped him to remember his higher self."

"Huh," Charlie expressed surprise. "I suppose it's possible, since we don't really know all that much about Opaleyes to start. They're very shy and mysterious."

Hermione met Harry's gaze. "Just talk to him. He can answer in your head."

Her best friend stared at her for a long minute, before turning to Draco. "Sorry, Malfoy."

The dragon snorted, shook its head again and then opened its eyes to stare down at the group. Hermione could practically see the sneer she knew would grace Slytherin's former Prince's face in the beast before her.

Whatever he mentally said to Harry in response, the wizard suddenly grinned. "Yep, it's Malfoy." He nudged his chin at the creature. "So where the bloody hell have you been?"

_Men!_ Hermione sighed in disgust and stood back to take a seat against the far wall, allowing the conversation to commence without her input.

After half an hour of questioning, Harry offered a goodbye to Draco, while Charlie asked if the beast was hungry. Apparently, he was, for the dragon-tamer offered to have a cow prepared for him and Apparated over in a few hours. As the two turned and Harry helped her to her feet, she looked over at Draco, whose attention had turned upon her.

_I guess this is the end of our grand adventure, Malfoy_, she glumly thought. It was clear that Draco's telepathic ability was growing now that he had control of his dragon self and his memories had been stirred, and so there was no need for her to act as any sort of mouthpiece for him. Honestly, she was a little sad by the revelation, having rather enjoyed all of the excitement. It had been too long since she'd been in the field, doing something that mattered. She'd miss this.

_Stay._

It was a command, not a request. Glancing at her two companions, she realized neither of them had heard Draco's charge.

_You. Al…one. Please._

"'Mione, you all right?" her best friend asked, concerned.

She thought up a quick excuse to justify staying behind. "I'm going to try more spells on him. See if something can change him back, or if I can figure out what curses were used to make him like this."

Harry shrugged. "I can stay, too, if you need."

It was a nice offer, but she didn't want Harry's interference. This could be her task to accomplish. Maybe she could help save Malfoy and do _something_ brave, important and useful for once since the war had ended. A small part of her inside needed this. "No, thank you, Harry. I think I'll be fine here, and you need to get to work finding his mother," she reminded him, forcibly looking away from those compelling, starlit eyes and back at her friends. "And you, Mr. Weasley, need to find him some food, before I end up on the menu," she joked.

It took some huffing and shooing, but eventually, both men left, and she was alone once more with her dragon.

**X~~~~~X**

They spent hours trying all sorts of spell combinations and discussing his memories of the attack. At some point, Charlie returned with the carcass of a butchered cow. To her relief, it took only a breath of fire by Draco to roast it, but she did leave the room and cover her ears as he ate, the crunch of bones making her quite ill. He laughed at her with that weird snuffing-chuckling noise when she came back in, passing her ex's older brother on the way out with a wave goodbye.

"Oh, do stop teasing," she warned, dragging one of the wooden, sitting room chairs in behind her. She plunked it down in front of Draco and sat, crossing her arms and legs and huffily stared up at him. "It was positively disgusting seeing- Oh, Merlin! You have a bit of… Oh, _yuck!_" She pointed to her upper right canine tooth. "Cow skin, lodged right there."

With amazing dexterity, Draco's right front claw removed the offending piece of meat and he swallowed it without thought. Hermione shuddered and looked away. "That was positively vile."

Malfoy chuckled again.

_Prude._

"Well, I see your vocabulary is improving," she snapped, refolding her arms. "Maybe you can use it to tell me more about how you ended up in this situation to start, hmm?"

Dusk came, and twilight crept upon them. It wasn't until she realized that the last rays of the sun were disappearing across his broad, scaly back that she understood that she'd spent more than six (arguably enjoyable) hours with Malfoy. She'd talked about their time at school together at his request, hoping to unlock more of his memories. When she got to the end of second year, and she confessed about her duplicity with the Polyjuice Potion to him, the dragon laughed again.

_Inter…esting._

"Not one of my more brilliant moments, I know," she admitted to having gotten the wrong hairs for her own vial. "But it got you to tell us what we needed to know." She stretched and stood up. "In any case, I need to leave now, Malfoy. I have to feed my cat and myself." Sighing, reluctant to leave, she looked up at the hulking creature. It was an odd feeling, knowing that inside, this was Draco Malfoy, and yet, outside, it was like he was a complete stranger to her. "I guess I don't need to come back either, since you can obviously talk to others now. I will pass on everything I know about the spell and what we've tried to the assigned witch or wizard to your case, though."

Draco quickly stood up and stomped, causing the house to shudder.

_No! No one else._

Taken aback by the imperiousness in his tone, she put her arms on her hips and glared up at him. "Now see here, Malfoy - you can't order me around! I've got a job I have to go back to."

A small puff of flame escaped his lips. _No!_

"They may need to bring in a Curse-Breaker on this case," she fought back, "and I'm not trained-"

He stomped his back foot this time. _NO! Only you._

"Why?" she shouted now, exasperated. "I can't do much more than research at this point."

_Talk. Re…mem…ber._

That floored her. He wanted them to talk? But why? Unless… "How long have you been like this, Draco? How long since you were turned into a dragon?" she asked, sudden insight blowing her away.

The beast turned its back on her (albeit with some difficulty, as its bulk made it hard to gracefully move around in such an enclosed space).

_Fine. Go._

She did something then that was absolutely crazy: she walked up to his tail and slapped it. She nearly broke her hand as his scales were so hard. Shaking her wrist out, she huffed. "Don't you turn your back on me, Draco Malfoy! You answer! How long?"

The stubborn son of a goat kept his silence, refusing to look at her, but she understood what he did not say: he'd been this way for so long he couldn't remember. It had to have been several months at least – time in which he most likely hadn't spoken with a soul.

"Draco, are you… are you lonely?" she asked.

The dragon snorted, but did not reply.

She considered it, fought her compulsion to stay and be a part of this larger story versus the need to be rational and responsible to her regular duties. "But… I'm already a month behind on the budget for the Being Division," she weakly argued. It wasn't one of her favorite parts of the position, but it was part of her job description, being the junior on staff. "So even if my boss in the Beast Division could convince my boss in the Being Division that you're the find of the century, the budget would take precedence." She reached out and touched his tail again, this time smoothing her hand over the lovely scales. "And… well… couldn't someone else who knew you better help you jar your memories faster? What about Pansy Parkinson, or Blaise Zabini, or Gregory Goyle? They're your friends. I could call one or all of them to come."

He did not reply, but she did sense a strange defeatism in his posture as he lowered his head into his paws. A queer thought passed through her in that moment.

"They are still your friends, aren't they?" she required, working her way around to the front of him, needing to see his reptilian face for its expression. "Draco?"

He turned aside and hid, and that's how she figured the truth: he'd been abandoned by those he'd once thought his allies. And if it were true that his mother was dead, then he really was all alone in the world.

With a deep sigh, she capitulated. "All right, I'll do as I promised I would at the start of all of this and give it my best shot." She tapped him on the snout and he peeked open his pearl lids to dazzle her with those pretty eyes of his. "Somehow, I'll find a way to convince my boss to let me stay on your case so we can try to turn you back to normal. I may have to bring in help, just so you know, and I expect you to behave if I do." He huffed, and the force of such a simple reaction nearly knocked her back a step. She poked him in the shout and stared him down. "And if you insult me or do something despicable, I'm walking and you can just stay like this forever as far as I'm concerned. Got that, ferret-boy?"

He blinked, looked at her a little longer and then sighed in what sounded like relief.

_Agreed._

She nodded, and they had an accord.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**_

**Antipodean Opaleye: According to **_**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**_**, "The Antipodean Opaleye is a breed of Dragon native to New Zealand, although it has been known to migrate to Australia in search of territory. It resides in valleys, which is unusual as dragons typically reside on mountains. It is generally considered one of the most beautiful dragons with pearly scales that line its body, and glittering multi-coloured eyes that have no pupils. The Opaleye's eggs are pale grey and been known to be mistaken by Muggles as fossils. Its flame is vivid red, and the Opaleye is not particularly aggressive, rarely killing unless it is hungry. Its prey of choice is sheep, but it has been known to attack larger animals. In the 1970s, several kangaroo killings were thought to have been caused by a male Opaleye that had been ousted from its territory by a dominant female." Because of this quote, I have made the Opaleye a shy creature that would rather hide than fight for this fic, because I needed to explain why dragon-Draco would be hiding in Malfoy Manor's dungeons, and because I knew it would help its case for not voluntarily being a part of Voldemort's army (which would prevent dragon-Draco from being outright slaughtered by the Ministry). It all worked together nicely in this case.**


	2. Chapter 2: Enter the Virgin Princess

_**CHAPTER TWO **_

Thanks to the miracle that was office politics, Hermione did manage to convince her bosses to let her stay on Draco's case, mostly at the urging of Kingsley Shacklebolt, whom she'd gone to see first about the issue. She knew that the Minister understood that the Malfoy vaults were wealthy despite the war's required reparations, and that Draco _might be_ persuaded to donate a substantial reward to the Ministry for the return of his humanity by one of their own. An hour after she'd dropped that hint, both of her bosses from the Division of Being and Beast were at her cubicle, assuring her that the "Dragon Case" was all hers and her top priority over all else, and requiring regular updates as to its progress.

So it was that every morning, she'd check in at her desk at Headquarters to see if Robards or Harry (who had left for France with the five-man Auror team immediately) had left her any news, and to find out if the co-worker now tasked with finishing the budget had any questions for her. As soon as those tasks were completed, she'd Apparate over to Malfoy Manor, usually with a stack of research books in hand, as well as a packed lunch, and she would spend the morning going through the tomes to read up on old spells that had fallen into disuse, or to research any curses having to do with Animagi and animal Transfiguration. Draco usually stayed silent during this time, watching her, affected only when she tried a spell upon him.

After lunch, they'd set aside the reading to talk, and she'd use that time to recall events from her past at Hogwarts – specifically times she thought he may also remember, having been directly involved with or an observer to. The fact that he seemed _legitimately_ interested in hearing what she had to say and in sharing these recollections did wonders for her ego, too, she had to admit, for in this way, she felt she was reaching through the layers of bigotry he'd been raised believing and that he was coming to see her as an actual human being – something he'd never have considered years and many dark experiences ago. During these times, Malfoy - whose vocabulary was vastly improving - often prompted her to go into greater detail about her adventures or day-to-day activities, insofar as she could remember, and sometimes, he would even make insightful jests or praises at her expense after the telling, depending upon his teasing mood. The only small disappointment she felt was that he said very little about his own reminiscences of those shared times, keeping his past bottled up deep inside. Perhaps, however, that was for the best for now, to prevent major disagreements, for they were both of them temperamental creatures, she discovered, when they did occasionally argue over opinions.

Six o'clock in the evening became her metaphorical punch-out time, and she always left the dragon then, as Crooks was terribly insistent about his dinner time (as was her stomach, truthfully). She'd get home, fix meals, go through her mail and pay bills, eat and watch a little telly, take a shower, and finally go to bed, her last thoughts before falling to sleep that of Draco, his quandary, and those beautiful, mysterious opal eyes watching her.

It was in such ways that their time passed together.

After the fifth day of her comings and goings through his life thusly, he finally said something to her to nearly knocked her socks off from the sheer novelty.

_Forgive me?_

She blinked, looking over at the dragon lying on his back, warming his stomach as the afternoon sunlight shone down through the hole in the roof directly onto those beautiful pearl scales. "Forgive you for what?" she asked, unsure as to what he was specifically referring.

He turned that huge maw in her direction, his long, forked tongue lolling out of his mouth in lazy satisfaction.

_Everything._

Blinking, she stood up and made her way over to him, stopping mere feet from his cinder-smelling mouth. "You mean all of the hurt you put me through in school?"

_Yes._

Hmm, now wasn't that interesting? Malfoy was apologizing. Would it be terribly bad manners to gloat in triumph? She patted the crest of his nose instead. "All right, you're forgiven."

Those soul-capturing eyes looked back at the exposed sky above through the ragged hole in the roof; large, fluffy clouds leisurely rolled by making it a perfect spring day.

_Thanks._

Hermione shrugged. "The past is the past. All of us are starting over, Malfoy. Why not you, too?"

Her dragon silently considered that, scratching his chest absently with razor-sharp claws, the sound an odd, dry rasp as if metal were scraping over leather.

_Starting over. I like that._

He turned his head and nudged her.

_Sit here, princess. _

He patted a spot at his side.

_It's warmer._

That was the first time she'd actually laid her body against him. To her surprise, it wasn't as awkward or frightening as she'd expected, although she had to admit that his scales were like leaning against a terribly uncomfortable, hard-backed chair. When he flipped onto his side minutes later and she fell into the grove near his belly, it was decidedly softer, though - like supple snake skin - and she accidentally fell asleep that way, lulled by the marvelously temperate spring day, and his strong heartbeat and even breathing.

X~~~~~X

That night, as she took her regular shower and was shampooing her hair, Hermione came to the startling realization that her time with Draco had somehow become precious to her and that she sincerely looked forward to Apparating over to the Manor to be with him every day with a queer sort of childish giddiness that she hadn't felt since she had been eleven years old and had seen her first unicorn. Recognizing that what she was doing became less about her job, and more about making a new friend (even if it was out of an old enemy) came as something of a surprise to her, and quite honestly, worried her a bit. Was it terribly unprofessional and even a tad cliché for her to be behaving like an infatuated schoolgirl over discovering her first magical creature and supposing she was 'taming' it? And was she really _that_ pathetically lonely that she'd had to turn to the likes of Draco Malfoy for companionship?

Of course, the fact that he behaved decidedly un-Malfoy-ish as the days progressed - in not cutting her to the quick or making scathing remarks – lent credence to her growing appreciation for him. She attributed his new attitude to the fact that he had clearly gone through some rather difficult and painful mental adjustments over the years since they'd last been in each other's company; surely, having been forced to serve a madman like Voldemort, fearing for your very life, _and_ having to deal with the overt scorn from the wizarding world after for having been a Death Eater, _and_ losing both of his parents, _and_ being forced into the body of a beast, living on the run and without a voice to defend yourself would certainly have changed anyone. Whatever the reason, she was rather happy for such a blessing, as it made it easier for her to become comfortable around him, and to begin to ignore the fact that he was trapped in a twenty-ton, reptilian body. It allowed her to treat him as a man instead – the intelligent, quick witted and rather affable man he'd grown into.

As his interest in her also seemed to grow daily, Hermione would occasionally let slip little hints of the truth that she'd hidden behind her face for so many years – specifically, that she'd definitely noticed _him_ during their formative years, despite pretending otherwise. That wasn't to say she'd fancied him, she'd argued after one such confession, but that she _had_ taken notice of his good looks and the rare occasions when he'd laughed or smiled sincerely, and that she'd certainly noticed his silent suffering during Sixth year and had often wondered what had caused him so much pain. He teased her about it, claiming she'd had a crush on him, and he'd even had the audacity to boast her taste as 'spot-on' (followed by a rather vain comment about his good looks). She'd retorted that he may have looked like a beauty, but he'd behaved as a beast back then, more so than now. They both laughed it off.

In this way, through such banter and discourse, she and Draco were fast becoming very good friends. It was for this reason that she didn't bat an eyelash when he'd requested her return over that first weekend. In fact, it felt natural and good to throw her whole self into the task of trying to help Malfoy not only find a way to break the curse upon him, but to help him regain his memories. And honestly, it wasn't like she was dating anyone, so her time was rather free. So, Saturday was spent much the same as the previous five days.

On Sunday, her leviathan had somehow managed to dig up an early-blooming rose bush (probably from somewhere on the property) and had left it near the chair she usually rested her satchel upon. True, it wasn't exactly the same as receiving a dozen, long-stemmed roses in a gold box with a ribbon, but it was the intent that mattered. He was trying to show her that his apology the other day was sincere. With a smile, Hermione used her wand to clip off the roses and remove the thorns, then took them home that afternoon on her lunch break to place them in a vase next to her bed (Charlie had delivered another cow right then, and Hermione couldn't stomach the idea of watching while the dragon enjoyed his yucky meal, so the timing was perfect). She did remember to thank Draco for his beautiful gift, however, before popping away.

**X~~~~~X**

Two weeks passed, with still no news about the whereabouts of Narcissa Malfoy, nor any progress in reversing the spell upon Draco. Hermione brought in Bill Weasley, Gringott's foremost expert Curse-Breaker to attempt his luck, but after an hour of trying everything he could think of that might be relevant to Malfoy's circumstance, even he had to admit that he was stumped by this peculiar puzzle.

Her growing anxiety over their continued failures to solve _any_ of the problems surrounding Malfoy's situation – his strange transformation, the location of his mother's body, Nott Sr.'s whereabouts - was compounded by the fact that, as each progressive day passed, she began to recognize something just a troubling: it became harder and harder to leave Draco's side each night. She was finding herself making excuses to linger just a moment longer before Apparating away each time.

Of course, it was a silly anxiety really, as Draco made up for their physical separation at nights when she shut her eyes and he mentally reached out to her, his fiery, prismatic eyes appearing behind her closed lids. Hearing his voice in her mind for those few minutes before she drifted off to sleep comforted her. Still, the whole thing was quite disconcerting, and she wondered if this was how it felt to become obsessed over someone.

**X~~~~~X**

By the end of week three, Draco's ability to speak had improved one-hundred percent and his vocabulary and speech abilities had been fully restored thanks to listening to her droning on for nearly twenty-one days, and picking through her brain on occasion for the more bizarre pop culture references she sometimes dropped into their conversations (he'd rediscovered profanity, much to her chagrin, but thankfully not his nasty use of his previously-favorite list of pejoratives).

Hermione's disquiet about the lack of news from Harry, and in the fact that she could still find no spell to reverse Nott Sr.'s accomplished curse upon Draco, was getting harder to hide. Her agitation was quick to flair as a result, and she'd had to twice keep herself from blowing her cool over something the dragon had said to her. Of course, the fact that her menses had come upon her hadn't helped matters, either.

Embarrassed by the fact that she knew Malfoy could smell her monthly pulses (but thankfully said nothing about it), she decided to take a day's break from him to go to Azkaban to talk to someone who might be able to help their case. The dragon was wise not to say much in response, obviously sensing her snappy mood.

_Be safe._

"I will," she promised, and Apparated away to the island fortress, which had been rebuilt and refortified since the war.

Theodore Nott Jr. had been in her year back in Hogwarts, but placed in Slytherin House along with Draco. He looked even weedier and scrawnier than she remembered, but at least he was clean. With the Dementors gone, the prison had become less a place of punishment and terror and more a place of rehabilitation through safe incarceration (accomplished by a three-part program of counseling, hand-trade training, and education). He was here because he'd been part of the group responsible for capturing Amelia Bones, and had been found guilty of aiding and abetting in her murder, sentenced to fifteen years as a result; although he hadn't killed the witch, he _had_ cast the _Incarcerous _to hold her down, and that had been her ultimate doom, as there had been no way for her to free herself and thus avoid the _Avada_ that Macnair shot her way. It was sad, really, that he would be spending the remainder of his young adult life behind bars, and wouldn't see the light of day until he was in his late thirties. What a waste of a life.

"Tangling with my father is a very bad idea," he stated wearily, running a hand through his long, dark bangs, pushing them off his face. "I think it would be safe to say that he was probably the cleverest of the Dark Lord's puppets – even more so than Lucius Malfoy. At least when my father failed Voldemort's commands, he always had a back-up plan in place to keep from being punished."

That warning did not bode well, Hermione fretted as she explained Draco's condition to his former friend and ally. She then spent the next half-hour asking Theo questions about what he knew of his father's magic, and if he had any idea as to what spell might have been used. Unfortunately, her former classmate could not offer much in the way of help, for he hadn't been close enough to his dad to share such trade secrets.

When she left the prison, Hermione was even more frustrated than before. It seemed that they were at an impasse as to know where to go from there, and all she could do was hope Harry was successful in finding Nott Sr. alive so they could Veritaserum the snot out of him for the answer.

In the meantime, after great consideration, she realized that the spell used on Draco was obviously not something that would be easily traced to any modern magical root. That meant it had to be an ancient curse of some kind. A solution came to her in a brilliant flash of insight as she was reading a rather interesting passage on North African curse chanting a few days later: fortunately, there was one place in the world that might very well hold such answers, as it was the largest repository of ancient magical knowledge in the West…

"I'm going to the Library of Alexandria tomorrow for several days," she informed her silent, reptilian friend as he lay with his head resting on his paws near her foot. She was leaning against his broad, scaly shoulder while sitting on a cushion on the floor next to him, her knees bent and an open book resting on her stomach.

Large, satiny lids peeled back to peer at her with multi-faceted, enigmatic eyes.

_Why?_

"I think we need to delve deeper – go into _real_ ancient magic," she explained, excited for the opportunity to finally visit THE ULTIMATE LIBRARY - one she'd been dreaming of visiting for years. "I'll ask Charlie to take me there by Side-Along. He's visited Egypt before, so he should know where to go. Maybe Bill should come, too? As a licensed Curse-Breaker, he might be able to get us into places we ordinarily wouldn't be allowed, like the darker magic reference sections."

Draco was silent for a moment, not reacting to the news that she'd be gone from his side for several days. Instead, he said something completely unrelated and utterly unexpected.

_The Dragon-Tamer likes you._

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. "Well, of course he does. We're family."

The dragon snorted.

_Not like that._ _He wants you. I smell it on him. He lusts after you, princess._

Her smile dropped away instantly, and she shook her head in denial as she stood to her feet and made her way over to a nearby chair, where her satchel rested on the floor at its feet. "That's preposterous," she commented brusquely, bending over to swap out a book from her bag with the one she'd been reading. "Charlie and I are only friends."

A sinister growl vibrated through the room.

_Don't be so naïve. He wants to fuck you hard, Granger. His desire spills into the air whenever you're nearby._

Her heart slamming under her ribs, Hermione's cheeks promptly bloomed with heat - and not just from the dragon's rather blunt, provocative statement, either. Never before had she thought of Charlie Weasley in a sexual manner. He'd always just been Ron's older brother. Now though, she looked at him through her mind's eye and in hindsight, and the small oddities started adding up: the lingering hugs in greeting or goodbye, the occasional stare she'd catch him at by accident, the way he smiled brightly for her – brighter than his usual reactions to others, the way he'd held her to him in this very room all those weeks ago when he'd tried to protect her from Draco.

Sitting heavily down in the chair, her new reading material abruptly forgotten in her lap, she came to the startling realization that she found Charlie to be rather handsome. More than that, actually – he was sexy in a way that none of his other male siblings could similarly claim (except maybe Bill, who was happily married and completely off-limits, even in the mind). Working outdoors, lifting extremely heavy loads and wrestling with dragons had given the second eldest Weasley son a body of steely, powerful muscle. And gifted by his genetics with piercing blue eyes framed by long, crimson lashes, and shapely lips… well, overall, he presented an extremely attractive package, there was no denying it.

Her breasts suddenly felt rather heavy and her nipples tightened with the memory of being pressed against his broad chest that one time, the alluring scent of spices and oranges enticing the senses now that she could recollect with clarity. Between her legs, she felt herself moisten.

With swift agility, Draco's head lifted and swung towards her, and he deeply inhaled, his mouth opening, his long, red tongue poking out and flicking the air. "Stop that," Hermione commanded, pulled out of her thoughts by his actions. She knew exactly what he was doing because Crookshanks did the same thing on occasion when he was scenting, too. It made her decidedly uncomfortable knowing Draco Malfoy smelled her unintentional arousal. "I don't want to think that way about Charlie so we're not going to talk about it again."

She shoved her bizarre fancies away, telling herself that there was nothing interesting about her ex-boyfriend's older sibling.

_Virgin._

She froze in the act of regaining her feet. Her heart leapt into her throat as Malfoy's snout was suddenly _there_, nudging her knees apart, forcing her to sit back in the seat, inhaling with serious delight at her pelvic girdle. Terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought, Hermione could only sit and stare, unsure as to what to do. How do you stop a forty-thousand pound beast that stood forty-feet from snout to tail, complete with armor-plate scales, from sniffing your crotch? If only her wand wasn't in the bag down at her feet, just out of reach!

"S-stop," she whimpered as he began caressing her magical aura at that exact moment, causing her whole body to shiver and eliciting a blatant sexual response. Heat blossomed inside her womb, dampening her knickers in seconds. "Don't do that. Stop it right now!"

_Smells so good. _

She'd heard the myths about dragons and virgins, and had always scoffed at them as being ridiculous fancies. Dragons were _animals_; they survived on instinct, and had no attraction to moral ideas such as sexual innocence. Yet, staring into those multi-colored, starry eyes now she began to question her earlier skepticism. How much did they really know about how dragons thought or dreamed anyway? Sure, this was Draco Malfoy wearing a dragon's skin, but what was happening right now had nothing to do with human desire, and everything to do with a beast's hunger.

His red, whiplash tongue slowly peeked out and scented her again, and a claw came into view out of the corner of her eye. Panicked, Hermione reached out to stop him, but as soon as his tongue came into contact with the skin of her palm, they both paused, and for the same reason: he'd now tasted her and the stakes between them changed in an instant. Instinct told her to remain perfectly still and to make no sudden moves or sound.

The prey watched her predator then with something akin to pure terror, for really what was she except dinner to a dragon - one who she'd just foolishly given an accidental sampling of tonight's main entrée.

With a quick, precise slice that moved faster than she could track, he snagged the front of her tee and slit it from neck to bellybutton, cutting through her bra at the same time. She screamed in terror and pushed away, and the chair tipped back crashing down onto the floor, causing her book to fly out of her hands and forcing her onto her back – a very vulnerable position to be in, but perfect for a dragon's late-night snack, as her soft belly with all those intestines and yummy, juicy organs was fully exposed. His snout loomed over her, and rows of razor-sharp teeth came into view.

"Draco, don't! Draco, it's me, Hermione Granger. Stop right this instant!" she pleaded on a scream, trying to crab-crawl away. A paw slammed down next to her, preventing her from going any further in that direction, so she backpedaled to the left instead, egged on by desperate fear. He cut her off with his other paw that way, too.

_Stop running from me. _

He cornered her eventually when she'd tried to gain her feet and he'd swiped at her without claws to push her into the wall, batting at her as a cat with a mouse. Still, her Gryffindor courage would not give up and die so easily. She kicked him hard in the nostril when he came into the right position and pushed hard at his snout in a vain effort to keep him back. "Don't you dare eat me, Draco Malfoy! Don't you _dare_, you slimy, ferret-faced tosspot!" she screamed at him, using a Ron-ism. "I'm the only one helping you! _THE ONLY ONE WHO CARES ABOUT YOU!_"

That stopped him cold, seemed to snap him into himself. He blinked those amazingly brilliant eyes of his several times.

_I'm not planning to make a meal of you, Granger. __I only wanted to sniff and taste your skin. Now hold still so I can do so._

"What?" she shouted, putting her foot on his snout again and pushing. "You were _too _trying to eat me, you yumpy idiot! You licked me like I was a-a-a meat popsicle!"

He chuckled darkly, his tongue lolling in amusement now.

_That's not the kind of eating I had in mind for you, princess._

Her whole body flushed as his implication made her reel back in shock. "_YOU UNMITIGATED PERVERT!_" she shrieked, and then kicked him again for good measure. "There will be absolutely no licking me. Back the fuck off, Draco, right now!"

The great dragon blinked in surprise again, then chuckled, his head slightly moving back.

_You said 'fuck.'_

The chuckling became full-out snortling.

_Granger said a profanity! Oooh, I'm telling your friend Potter!_

He laughed, lifting his head to the sky, his deep, rumbling voice echoing off the sixty-foot ceiling.

"Ha, ha, very funny," she sighed in shaky relief, the adrenaline that had kicked in during her flight now ebbing away, leaving behind quaking limbs and a heart that nearly thumped through her chest. "You nitwit, you scared me half to death! Don't _ever _do that again!"

Malfoy's head dropped back down and pressed her into the corner again. His eyes roamed her from head to toe, and then his tongue zipped out and licked her naked torso from throat to navel, being sure to travel in a zigzag formation across both breasts. It was only then that Hermione realized her clothing had been ruined and she was standing starkers from the waist-up in front of Draco's admiring gaze. With a squeak, she pulled the two ruined sections of her shirt together and slapped him on the nose. It hurt her palm infinitely more than him she was sure, but it was the only justice she was going to get this time. "_I SAID NO LICKING!_" she screamed with indignant rage. "Just you wait, Malfoy! I'm going to hex your bits into oblivion when I get my wand!"

The dragon's chest rumbled with laughter.

_Yummy. Very pretty and tasty, princess._

She slapped him again as he chuckled. "Get off, go away." To her horror, her eyes filled with tears. She couldn't believe she'd just been - what could she call it, 'tongued-up'? - by Draco _sodding _Malfoy. She hadn't been touched by a man in almost two years, and the first time she had, it hadn't even been by a human being! "You jerk. You absolute bastard! How could you?" Covering her eyes with one hand, she turned towards the wall and started crying, her shoulders shaking with residual fear, with work-related stress, with mortification… with self-pity and loneliness. "How could you?" she whispered around her tears. "How could you scare me like that? How could you _touch _me like that? I trusted you! I thought we were friends."

A soft nudge against her spine nearly, accidentally shoved her through the wall.

_We are friends, Hermione. I'm sorry._ _Please don't cry. It... hurts me._

Startled into silence, she turned about to look at her one-time tormentor, her mouth gaping open like a fish out of water.

_I didn't mean for you to think that I was trying to eat you. You just tasted so good. Not in a 'what's for supper?' way, but in a different way I've never known. In a way that made me want to… to touch you all over. And I'm still learning to control my instincts. When you ran… I couldn't help but chase. I'm sorry I frightened you._

"What?" was all she could think to say at that moment, completely stunned into stupidity.

_I'm not sorry I licked you, though. You're not getting an apology out of me for that._

It was such a preposterous thing to say - such a _Malfoy_ thing to say - that Hermione's ire simply melted away and she couldn't help but burst into laughter. She was having one of those queer moments, when you're so upset that you'll either break apart into a million unhinged pieces or you'll fly into gales of giggling laughter instead. She chose the happy distraction this time.

Wiping away her tears, knowing she probably looked horrible but not caring any longer, she modestly tried to bring her shirt together again to cover herself with one hand, while the other leaned out and fondly patted his nose. "You can't help being an absolute prat, Malfoy," she joked. "I've come to expect it from you. I'd be disappointed, in fact, if you weren't."

He watched her through those mysteriously gleaming orbs and his tongue crept out again in an attempt to lap at her exposed belly.

_Does that mean you'll let me do it again?_

She whapped him on the snoot and moved past him on moderately steady legs to collect her wand so she could Apparate home to change her top. "You could only wish."

Behind her, he sinfully chuckled again.

_Maybe I do._

**X~~~~~X**

The four-day trip to Alexandria turned out to be a success, in more ways than one.

First, Hermione had learned that the spell Nott Sr. had used was most likely (although not guaranteed, because really, it was the only spell she could find that even _remotely_ resembled their problem and she had no way of knowing if this was THE SPELL or not until she tried the counter for it) a Babylonian curse from around 600 C.E. known as "_Tiamat Nurmar_" or "Tiamat's Pearl." _If_ this was the enchantment used against Draco, Hermione pieced together that it would mean that Nott had found an ancient spell for Therianthropy – the metamorphosis of a human into an animal form – and he bound this magic into a true, rare black pearl (the ancient symbol for judgment) and bound it with a catalyst animal's blood – in this case, an Opaleye dragon's blood. He then somehow (probably using a _Stupefy_ and a binding spell) got the magicked pearl down Draco's gullet, and spoke the ancient words to activate the pearl's spell. This would have had the unpleasant result of forcing Draco to transform against his will into that of an Antipodean Opaleye dragon and trapping him in that form.

Fortunately for him, the wizarding gurus of the past knew of a way to remove this kind of curse, and they detailed the process for future generations to reference, when necessary. It was a long shot, but at this point, she'd take any possibility over hopelessness.

Second, Charlie had approached her the last evening they were in Alexandria by knocking on her hotel room door with a bottle of wine in hand, and they'd ended up on the in-suite couch, snogging out after finishing every drop of the vintage together. They'd almost gone all the way then, but at the last minute, Hermione had chickened out, explaining that she didn't want her first time to happen while partially drunk. Charlie had agreed to respect that boundary, but they'd crossed many others to make up for it. Hermione had learned a lot that sleepless night about oral pleasuring, and now knew the taste of a man's semen on her tongue, and how it felt to be pleasured between her legs.

She suspected Bill's wolfish nose knew what had transpired the next morning at breakfast between she and his younger brother, but thankfully the man had amazing tact and kept his mouth shut. He made no fuss either when Charlie offered to Side-Along Apparate Hermione home as soon as they'd checked out. Of course, she and he had fallen on each other the moment they arrived at her flat, too, continuing her 'education' for the rest of the afternoon in her bed. Only great restraint on her part had kept her from giving in and having sex with him, still citing her uncertainty in crossing that line just yet, but her sheets and skin _had_ smelled of him when he left her later that evening.

Unfortunately, her happiness was overshadowed that night in her dreams by a pair of iridescent, opal eyes despondently staring at her.

**X~~~~~X**

"I believe we can adequately set-up the Greater Magick Circle out on your front lawn," she excitedly continued explaining the plan to Draco, who was lying with his head resting between his front paws, his gaze turned towards the far wall. "It's the only place large enough in the area, and we can draw on the ancient spells surrounding your family's ancestral home to strengthen the magic."

She opened up the parchment she'd copied down from the one in Alexandria. "It says that we'll have to wait until the next new moon, which isn't for another twelve days – May the fourth, according to Firenze, who I owl'd yesterday about it. Aside from that, we have or can make all of the other ingredients available." She began listing off the items. "One circle of greater power, your standard items representing the five elements – air, earth, fire, water, spirit, a braid with the Spell of Nine Knots cast upon it at least three days in advance to enhance the power of the disenchant spell we're going to cast on you, and one small vial of a virgin's tears and another of blood from a virgin's vein that you'll have to drink, both supplied by _moi_." She took a small bow.

Draco disdainfully snorted.

"What was that for?" she asked, just then realizing that he didn't seem in the least bit enthusiastic by her news. He hadn't, in fact, even looked at her after his initial inspection when she'd come in. "What's going on with you, Malfoy? Are you feeling all right? Are you sick?"

_You stink of him, the Dragon-Tamer._

Hermione's cheeks warmed. "Well, we were together for four days. Of course his scent would be on me."

The dragon shifted to run one giant paw over his narrow, scaled forehead, in a move that was reminiscent of a human brushing hair from its eyes in annoyance.

_Don't play coy. I know what you two were doing together._

Her heart picked up pace, her anxiety rising as she felt another impending argument coming on. "Are you implying that I slept with Charlie? Because I haven't."

_You may not have fucked him, but you smell of his… spunk. It's all over you. _

She scrunched her face up in distaste. "Could you be any more disgusting?" she indignantly asked.

He raised his head and stared hard at her.

_Could you?_

Her temper rose to dangerous levels at the jabbing insult. "What did you say to me?" she hissed, a clear warning that even he should understand.

Laying his head back down, he snuffed again, sulking.

_You heard me loud and clear._

Clenching her jaw, she saw red. "Now see here: what I do or don't do in my private life is none of your business, dragon-man," she quivered with resentful offense, gathering up her things, shoving them into her bag without concern for their care. "You know, I've given up _a lot _to help you, and this is how you repay me - with veiled insults? You have the absolute _nerve!_" She headed for the door. "Fine, you don't need to worry about my 'stink' anymore then, because I'll just be going now." Before she could leave, however, she turned and dropped her satchel at the exit and marched back across the room, having worked herself up right good and infuriated now, pointing a finger at him. "You know, it was your 'insightful' commentary that put the little nugget into my head about Charlie to start, so it's really all _your_ fault if I did decide to pursue something with him." She stood right in front of his snoot now and crossed her arms, glaring at him. "And why should you care anyway?"

As he lifted that long, serpentine neck off the ground, his face twisted up, and again, she could almost see the sneer across his features, as if he were human.

_Because the smell offends me._

Tilting her head back, she tried not to feel in the least bit intimidated by his beastly height. "Oh, well tomorrow I'll just take two showers before coming here, shall I? After all, I wouldn't want to _dare_ affront Your Highness' delicate olfactory senses!"

He swung his head about, refusing to look at her, staring high up on the wall instead.

_Like I care if you ever come here again, princess. I didn't miss you while you were gone, and I could care less if I ever see your ugly Mudblood-self again – especially smelling of another man. _

Throwing her hands up in the air, she clenched her jaw and screamed behind her teeth. "FINE! Then I won't bother trying to help you anymore. You can just stay in this stupid animal form forever as far as I care!" She stomped back across the room and picked up her shoulder bag, and walked out without looking back, slamming doors behind her as she made her way through various rooms to the front door.

Not wanting to risk a splinching accident in her current emotional state, she waited to Apparate until her temper had cooled down. It took her five additional minutes after she had arrived at the estate's front gate, having walked all the way down the end of the long drive, before she achieved an appropriate level of calm. As she raised her wand to leave Malfoy Manor behind forever, determined not to see Draco ever again, she paused, feeling a strange hitch in her chest. Reaching forward, she grabbed the iron bars of the gate and leaned her hot forehead against the cool surface.

Why did this hurt so much? It made no sense. Why should walking away from him feel as if she were leaving a part of herself behind?

Tears welled in her eyes…

… and were mirrored in the shimmery, rainbow-mottled gaze watching her behind her lids when she shut them.

_Don't go. I didn't mean it._

"No! You can't keep doing this to me," she firmly told him, not truly trusting whether he could hear her from this distance or not. She talked anyway, needing to speak the words aloud, even if only for herself. "You spent years hurting me. Every chance you could, you did so. And it _did_ hurt, Draco, no matter what face I put on to make you think otherwise, your words always scarred me." She sniffed, gathered her lioness' courage around her like a protective blanket, reminding herself of who she was and what she had accomplished in her short life to give her the necessary strength. "But I _won't_ take it anymore. I don't have to. I don't deserve your hatefulness and cruelty, and I won't tolerate it any further." She pushed away from the gate. "_Goodbye_, Malfoy. Have a nice life."

As she spoke the spell to Apparate away, behind her, a dragon's scream of pain and rage shook the air and she knew he had, indeed, heard her every word.

**X~~~~~X**

That night, she took another shower before crawling into bed, feeling emotionally rung-out and looking forward to some solid rest. As soon as she shut her eyelids to sleep, however, she saw _him_ again, staring at her with those fathomless eyes.

_I'm sorry._

"Go away," she denied him, turning on her side. "We're through."

_Come back._

She felt the compulsion pull at her, much the same as Apparation or a _Portus_ spell did, only this tug wasn't in her abdomen, but somewhere a little higher up the chest.

"No. Absolutely not."

_Please come back. I'll behave._

She flipped onto her stomach and punched her pillow to try to make it softer. "No, you won't. Nothing will ever change, Malfoy. I'll always be a 'Mudblood' to you. Even when you promised not to call me that, you still couldn't help yourself. You're a bigoted jerkwad."

_I'm sorry, Granger. I just… lost my temper. You smelled like him. It… really bothered me._

Her eyes popped open and she sat up on her knees, looking at her headboard and considered what he'd just said. Bothered him? She closed her eyes again, re-establishing contact. "Why?"

_Why what?_

"Why did it bother you that I smelled like Charlie?" she prodded, a butterfly nervousness rioting around in her belly.

There was no response for the longest time. She patiently waited, instinctively knowing she shouldn't push.

_I'm not sure._

She huffed in exasperation, having expected more, but cynically knew she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up with the likes of _him_. "Well, when you figure it out, 'call' me back. Until then, don't bother."

Opening her eyes, she cut off the connection, got out of bed (now she was fully awake), went into her kitchen and poured herself a mug of milk. Heating it in the microwave, she moved into her snack cupboard and pulled out some choco-covered biscuits, grabbed three large ones, and collected her warm milk when the timer went off a few seconds later. Heading into the living area, she settled onto the couch and turned on the telly, but her attention was sorely lacking and her mind wandered towards her private concerns as a re-run of "AbFab" played on forgotten in the background, and she nibbled absently on a biscuit.

Why was Malfoy so desperate to hold onto her? Was it simply loneliness that made him so clingy?

She sniffed in disbelief. No, more than likely, this was simply a re-manifestation of the old Malfoy's attitude of entitlement. He'd always been a spoiled child with too big an ego for his britches. Now he was simply playing the game of possession with less overt finesse because the power dynamics between them were different. He needed her help - and they both knew that meant he was under her thumb.

Yet, that didn't explain why he'd cared that she'd fooled around with Charlie. He'd said they were friends, but he'd acted more like a jealous lover today.

Enlightenment steamrolled over her, squashing all of the air from her lungs.

Oh, surely not!

There was no way on the green earth that Draco Malfoy could possibly like her - not in _that_ manner, anyway. That would be…

"Absolutely fabulous, darling!" rang out Edina's voice from the program, breaking through her thoughts. The woman was speaking with Saffy, her daughter, of course.

"I was thinking more along the line of improbably insane," she murmured to the fictitious character on screen, finishing off her snack and her milk, and settling in under her sofa throw, trying to keep her eyes open so she wouldn't have to talk to _him_ again.

**X~~~~~X**

Draco's case was turned over to Penelope Clearwater the next day when Hermione went to speak to her boss in the Beast Division about being taken off the project for personal reasons (she claimed she and Malfoy were so diametrically opposed to one another from their long years of enmity that she didn't feel she could maintain a good rapport with the beast any further, and was worried their arguing might damage the credibility of the Department as a result of such unprofessionalism). He went to the boss in the Being Division and told him everything. Together, the two of them went to see Shacklebolt, who was incredibly discouraged by the news, but was assured that Clearwater was as clever a witch as Granger, and was a good secondary choice for performing the ritual to changing Draco Malfoy back into a human. Satisfied that their dream of thousands of donated galleons was safe, the Minister and her bosses gave permission for her to walk away.

Judiciously, Hermione decided to take off the rest of that whole week from work, using up half of her accrued personal holiday hours in the doing. With grand plans to give her flat a good spring cleaning, she tied back her hair every day, dressed in sloppies, and got to scrubbing, dusting, mopping, and purging with gusto.

Far from being a week of cathartic rehabilitation for her weary soul, though (for working with her hands had always previously improved her mood), she continued to find little rest. The reason was simple: _he_ continued to talk to her every time she closed her eyes, and his words and those eyes haunted her dreams. She didn't sleep or eat properly as a result, and just tonight, she'd argued with Charlie (and that after he'd kindly come to bring her dinner). He'd left her flat just an hour ago angry as a swarm of bees because she'd stalled on having sex _again_ when they finally came down to it in her bed (she'd tried explaining that the idea of doing 'it' to make-up a fight wouldn't be the way she'd want for her first time, but he'd thought she was intentionally putting him off because she was just scared of growing up). She honestly wasn't sure she would see him again by the way they'd left things.

By one o'clock that morning – a Monday, when she was supposed to return to work - she was emotionally, spiritually and physically worn down by Draco Malfoy's persistent sorrow, which she felt as a queer pressure in her chest, caused by whatever inexplicable link existed now between the two of them. It didn't help that her own depression was as powerfully crushing, and it was with great reluctance that she finally had to admit that she'd terribly missed her dragon; his snarky humor in her head for the last several weeks, his calming presence as they sat together, and even his moodiness were memories that she couldn't help but continually revisit in her mind (and in the doing, she terribly tortured her sore heart).

It was his inexplicable, magical compulsion drawing at her aura that finally, tonight, negotiated her before the gates of Malfoy Manor once more, despite her vow to the contrary just days before. Standing in her pajamas and slippers, holding only her wand with quaking hand, she leaned her head against the cool, iron gate for the second time and shut her eyes. "I'm here. What do you want?"

_Come inside._

He sounded nervous and eager at the same time, and despite the fact her body was practically dying to do as he wanted, she fought against the compulsion, and somehow managed to keep her legs and arms in place, not budging an inch further. "What have you done to me? Why can't you just leave me alone?" she exhaustedly pleaded.

_I need you to be near me. I know you need me just as much. I can feel it. So, why shouldn't we be together?_

"You're doing this to hurt me," she accused. "The same as always, Malfoy. It's the same game as always."

_Not the same. I can feel you out there and… Please come to me, Granger. _

Jerking her head up, her body moving on auto-pilot, her will too weak to fight anymore, she made her way into the house, her head sandy, her whole body wanting to just collapse to the ground and not wake up for a week. Finally, she stood before him, glaring despite her tiredness, the last of her pride making a valiant stand. "What the _fuck_ do you want with me?" she growled, too tired to scream.

That massive head bent to her level and those endlessly swirling eyes of color captured her.

_Stay with me here tonight. Don't go away again._

She dropped her wand and feebly hit him on the nose, her arm moving in slow motion, feeling as if a hundred-kilo lead weight was tied to the end. She knew she could do no damage to him, but she was angry – _so very, very angry_ – so, she hit him again and again until she was on her knees, uncontrollably sobbing. "Leave me alone. Whatever you've done to me, Malfoy - just let me go!"

_I can't._

He sounded in great pain, and to her utter amazement, he laid that massive head of his against her knees in surrender.

_I've tried. I told myself that it was good riddance when you left, but every day, without your presence, it's been harder and harder not to lose myself to the animal inside. I don't understand what's happening either, but somehow I've come to need you so much, princess. I hate how cold and silent it is here without you. It's like living in a tomb.__ I miss your voice, your scent, your bossiness, even your crazy hair. I miss you._

"There are others to help you now," she argued, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, continuing to cry. "Others to keep you company. Penelope Clearwater has been assigned to you-"

_I don't want her. I want _you.

"You can't do this," she adamantly shook her head. "I have a life. I'm with Charlie. We're dating."

Draco's jealous growl immediately shut down that line of discussion. The sound rumbled through her ribcage, echoing throughout the room with menace.

_Don't push me, Granger. I can smell him all over you again and it's enough to make my dragon's heart furious. _

One large paw reached out for her, and when he retracted his claws with a decidedly loud 'snick' (they sunk back under the nail bed in a flash), she cringed away.

_I need my scent on you to erase his or I'm going to go mad. Don't move._

Hesitantly, and with great trepidation on both of their parts, he touched her with one gleaming silver-white finger that was the size of her whole arm. It was a very light brushing stroke that traveled over her thigh first, learning the correct pressure not to bruise, then moved up to her shoulder, stroking down her arm, then to her hair.

_Hold out your hand._

She shook her head, swayed to move away. That humongous, cinder-scented maw crowded closer, growling low.

_Don't! I'm barely holding myself in check. Just… let me taste your skin again._

Quaking, afraid of a repeat of last time, she slowly held her hand out to him. "Don't bite."

His red, forked tongue zipped out and licked her palm, and in her head, she heard Draco's sigh of relief. The tongue reappeared and licked again and again, covering her with his saliva. Strangely, it wasn't gross, and had the same consistency as human spit.

_You taste so good. Like sugar and salt combined._

Despite her trembling heart, her lips quirked as she fought back her humor. "A dragon with a sweet tooth? And here I thought you only ate roasted bovine."

That giant index finger returned to stroke her thigh, pressing carefully into the peak of their joining. Hermione nervously shifted.

_I won't always look like this, you know, Granger. After the ritual, I'll be a man again. Do you know what I look like now?_

She shook her head. It had been two years since she'd seen him last in person, huddled with his parents in the Great Hall after Voldemort's death, and that had been only a fleeting glance.

_Close your eyes._

Blood furiously pumping through her veins, she paused on his request. "I'm scared to," she admitted, biting her bottom lip. "I'm not sure I want to know."

_Please._

Draco Malfoy had _never_ said 'please' to her, and yet in the course of one night, he'd said it twice. The fact that he'd learned the word in itself was a modern miracle. With a sigh at that actualization, she did the unthinkable and shut her eyes as he'd politely asked.

The image that came through was one of him as a human male looking in a mirror while shaving, obviously having just gotten out of the shower. He was as tall as she remembered Malfoy to be – an inch or two over six feet – and his platinum-blond hair was messily tousled, but she could see the bangs were long, the sides and back short. His magnetic, mercurial eyes were as powerfully compelling as always, and he was as handsome as she remembered, with a severe, patrician set of features, and full, shapely lips made for kissing. His body, however, had filled out in the two years since he'd left the Dark Lord's service, taking on that of a man's musculature. Flat abs, tapered waist, broad shoulders, strong pecs, and all smooth - except under the arms where a very light fluff of golden hair existed.

His face shaven clean, he splashed water to remove the last of the foamy cream and dropped his towel to dress. Hermione felt her whole body flush hot at the sight of his strong thighs and hips, and there, nestled amongst soft, golden curls lay his long, beautiful cock.

The vision abruptly ended.

Hermione's eyelids snapped open, and it took a concerted effort to reclaim her breath and to still her fast-beating heart. Her whole body was decidedly moist, and a strange burning need to touch herself hammered at her will.

_You liked what you saw. _

It was no question; merely a statement of known fact.

_Now you'll know what to expect. _

Her gaze flew from her lap up to his dragon's face - and was captured by those beguiling, dazzling orbs once again. The claim was a pledge; he'd just implied that as soon as the ritual was complete and he was human again, he _would_ come to her and sexually own her. Such arrogance was astounding and it made Hermione's hackles rise in piqued defense… And yet, the idea itself made everything inside of her quiver with anticipation. What would she do once she saw him as a wizard again? Would this strange, persuasive, undeniable connection between them still exist?

"Did you make that up, or was that an actual memory?" she stammered, unsure what to believe anymore and trying to deflect her embarrassment.

Draco didn't answer. Instead, he stroked her magical aura again, caressing against it with his own, this time with a sultry insistence that left her whole body tight with need, incredibly sensitive and as taut as a bow-string. Continuing to spiritually stroke against her, he brought her to the heights of pleasure, and just as she reached the pinnacle, where the ache was starting towards pain, he nudged her one last time and Hermione flew apart in an orgasm that rocked her world. She threw her head back, sat up on her knees and cried out loud and lusty, reaching for and grabbing a hold of his giant hand for support as her womb undulated with waves of fiery bliss. _"Oh, gods, DRACO!"_

Her shuddering went on for several heartbeats until her body's pleasure finally met its end and she simply relaxed, giving up all tension. Her overheated, shaky form fell forward, unable to support itself any longer, but Malfoy easily, gently caught her in his large hand and gathered her close to his face.

_I think we can both sleep now, my princess._

Too drained to speak, Hermione's lids shut of their own accord and she tumbled into the peace of darkness, her rest uninterrupted for the first time in days, her dreams beautiful and comforting.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**_

**Size Comparison: Your average African Bull Elephant weighs-in, on average, at around six-tons (12,000 lbs.). By using a weight x height x girth ratio of equivalent standard, a forty-foot long Opaleye dragon would weigh around twenty-tons (40,000 lbs.). The Opaleye is listed as being 40 feet long as an adult in **_**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**_**.**

**Tiamat's Pearl: A Babylonian myth exists about the vengeful goddess, Tiamat (who appears as a giant dragon in some literature). In those stories, she is always seeking justice for wrongs committed against her and her husband. I adapted that idea for this story, using the traditional meaning of black pearls in Babylonian culture (worn by their judges to signify the "makers of justice" that their office required of them) as a symbol for Tiamat's anger… and thusly, for Nott Sr.'s anger (as he sees Draco as a blood traitor, and is taking "justice" against him in the form of this spell).**

**Spell of Nine Knots: A traditional spell from ancient Greek custom to store up magical energies for use later or (as I intended to use it here) to permanently bind undesired energy or influences. In this case, it permanently bound away the Therianthropy spell (the metamorphosis of a human into an animal form), causing Draco to revert back to his human form.**

**AbFab = "Absolutely Fabulous" = A television program on during the time of this fic during the late night hour. It was a famous comedy-drama.**


	3. Chapter 3: Their Fairytale Ending

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

They came to an agreement later that same morning, upon awakening: Hermione would continue to help Draco try to undo the curse placed upon him, so long as he would never again disparage her and behave himself whether in public or private (in other words, no more licking her, or cutting through her clothing, or bullying her). He countered, by requesting that she not sleep with Charlie until she'd given him equal opportunity to court her (once he'd regained his true form).

Apparating home to quickly shower, eat, feed Crooks, call her mum, gather up the materials she'd need for the day, pack up a lunch, and change into fresh clothes (not necessarily in that order), she returned to Draco's side two hours later. They spent the remainder of the day together first making the power-binding braid and casting the Spell of Nine Knots upon it, and then after, lounging about (she laid back against his neck, while he read over her shoulder or napped; dragons apparently liked to sleep quite a lot, like cats).

That evening, she returned home… only to find her little, comfy flat incredibly cold and unwelcoming. Even cuddling with Crooks wasn't enough to defer the deafening solitude as she shut her eyes in bed.

_I feel your pain. You're as lonely as I am. _

She sighed. "I guess I got used to being with you again."

_So come back. Spend the night. Bring your blankets and make a nest next to me. I'd like it, too. _

She snickered. "I can't do that. I live here."

_Shall I come to you, then? _

She flipped onto her back and laughed. "You wouldn't fit in my flat, even without walls in the way. You're too fat."

_Fat? _

She could almost see him swinging that long neck around to check out his body.

_I beg to differ, Granger. I am the svelte equivalent of a dragon Adonis. _

"Adonis? Hardly," she snuffed.

There was a pregnant pause.

_Shall I remind you? _

The vision of the human Malfoy in the bathroom once more, wrapped in only a towel, was projected into her mind. He went through the exact same procedure as the other night, and to her utter astonishment, she felt her whole body tingle with sexual anticipation just before his towel left his hips. Her breasts suddenly felt tender and very sensitive. Brushing a hand quickly over her right side, she felt the nipple under her cotton top stiffen in reaction, and a ripple of pleasure shot through her core.

_I feel your desire. _

An automatic, prudish response jumped to her lips, but was quickly squashed by the feeling of him stroking her magical aura across the distance.

_Let go and enjoy yourself, princess. Take pleasure from me. _

Seeing little harm in indulging in a long-distance fantasy, she gave into the devil whispering in her ear and did as Draco instructed, pinching her nipples when he requested, licking her fingers and rubbing them across the sensitive buds when encouraged, and pretending all the while that it was him doing these things to her.

_Have you ever touched yourself? _

Hermione swallowed, embarrassed, feeling her cheeks burn hotter. "Yes."

_Then do it for me now. Slip all of your clothes off. I want to see you. _

She gasped and quickly grasped the edges of her top, pulling them together. "You can see?"

A dark, sinful chuckle echoed in her ears and reverberated through her core.

_Too scared, princess? _

It was a direct challenge to her lioness' bravado, but Hermione was no fool to this serpent's deceitful ways. She tossed her head on the pillow with scorn. "Scared? Ha! Not likely! I just don't want to show you everything yet," she thrust her hands into her pajama bottoms and cupped her mound.

_I knew you would be a tease, Granger. _

He seemed to take an odd delight at her defiance, as if he got off on her brazen insolence, instead of finding it irritating.

Grabbing a hold of her courage, Hermione licked her lips and costumed herself in the façade of the confident seductress, wanting to prove to Malfoy and herself that she wasn't scared of exploring her sexuality, as both he and Charlie had accused. "Maybe I'll make you wonder what I look like and where I like to be stroked best as I get myself off, hmm?"

_Then go on, princess – if you dare. You've got my undivided attention. _

The projected mental image of Draco, naked and wet, faded out and all she could see was a pair of rainbow-kaleidoscope eyes watching her as she raised her knees up and began by stroking lightly over her labia a few times. Moistening one finger with her own fluids, trailing it up the center of her now-parted lips, she stopped over her small clit and began rubbing in soft circles right over the spot that made electricity arc up and down her spine. Tossing her head back, arching her back and gasping at the exquisite sensation, she bent her knees closer to her chest in an effort to hold the feelings inside.

"Draco," she panted, "Are you watching me?"

_Hermione, my dragon's heart is pounding so hard right now. Show me more. Show me everything. Let me see what you look like. _

Nervously, she bit the inside of her cheek. She'd let Charlie see her like this, so why was she so scared to let _him_see her? "You won't tell anyone that we're doing this?"

_No. This is for you and me alone. _

She paused another moment. "I'm placing my trust in you."

_I promise it'll be our secret - just yours and mine. _

He was solemn in his understanding, and she felt through their odd connection the sincerity of his words and intentions. It was that which convinced her to slide off her bottoms and to fully make herself vulnerable. Instantly, she could feel his scorching, phantom gaze sliding over every inch of her revealed flesh with a heated intensity that left her insides melting and quivering together. Her legs uncontrollably trembled.

_You're so beautiful. Please touch yourself for me, princess. Show me what you like. _

Starting at the beginning, Hermione worked her fingers over herself as she ritually preferred, and when it was time, she slid one finger down to pierce herself just a bit – only up to the knuckle, not wanting to break her own hymen.

A stroke across her magical aura came at just that moment, heightening her pleasure. Inside her channel, she felt the sensation of something pulsing within her, shuttling back and forth in time to her own thrusts. It worked itself all the way to the back of her canal, stroking nerves she never even knew she had. From her panting mouth was drawn a deep moan, and a delicious shivering started deep in her womb, working outward, exciting every inch of her skin.

_This is how it will be when I make love to you, Hermione. _

"Oh, Godric!" she gasped, thoroughly seduced by this magic Draco used upon her.

How had she never known how thoroughly sexy Malfoy was, or how much he would make her feel, or how emotionally compatible they were? It seemed impossible not to know these things. In such a short time, he'd become her air, her color, her dream, and she yearned for him with a craving that defied the bounds of logic.

"I need you," she whispered to him. "I need your kiss."

Ghostly lips hungrily stroked across hers as another rhythmic throb coursed through her, and all of the muscles in her lower abdomen and backside and thighs tensed up as her orgasm crested, threatening to tip her over the cliff any second now. Her toes curled as she desperately reached for that reckless experience.

_Come for me, my princess. _

With a cry of her dragon's name, Hermione found her release in an explosion of light and brilliance that nearly blinded her. Blood pounding through her veins, she continued to shudder for heartbeat upon heartbeat, feeling her body release unto the exquisite "petite death," only to be reborn seconds later. At last, the pressure eased her into exhausted, glowing feelings of somnolent contentment.

Lying back, panting and slightly sweaty from the experience, she thought her brain might fuzz out on her permanently. That wicked chuckle teased her ear again, and the feeling of being kissed on the lips very sweetly made her reach for her dragon's spectral, magical force, only to find her hands grasping empty air.

_Sleep, love. I'll see you in a few hours. _

He slipped from her mind just as she pulled the covers over her naked body and gave herself over to pleasant dreams once more.

**X~~~~~X**

Two days passed in the blink of an eye as they prepared for the ritual, and as Hermione returned to her office to reacquire the case of 'The Malfoy Dragon,' setting her immediate bosses (and both Division offices) into a tizzy of activity as the gossip and speculation started to fly. Fortunately, the Minister was once more quickly and craftily reassured that his coffers would shine once the dust settled, and Penelope could have cared less one way or the other (in fact, she seemed happy to be relieved of the assignment). She was 'home free,' as it were, on the job front.

On the day of the big event, Hermione awoke extra early – just after dawn – and after feeding herself and Crooks properly, began her list of last-minute preparations.

Because the blood for the spell had to be directly taken from a virgin's veins and be somewhat fresh, Hermione had acquired a syringe and a rubber tube band yesterday and, after reading up on the procedure to draw blood properly, she now stuck herself with the needle and withdrew enough of the life-bonding, sanguineous fluid from the bend in her elbow to fill the proper size vial. This part was awful (she _hated_needles), but she did what was necessary and didn't think twice about it after carefully covering up the small hole in her arm (which bled for only a few minutes). Stoppering the full vial and putting it aside, she made a note to correctly dispose of her biohazard waste at a local hospital drop-off point after wrapping it carefully in a paper bag and leaving it on her kitchen counter.

The virgin's tears were another issue entirely, however. Who knew it would be so difficult to blubber enough to fill a one-ounce vial? In the end, it took her sitting through entirety of _"Titanic"_on DVD that morning in front of her telly, and reminding herself to reach for the small glass tube, and not the tissues when the proper time came. Thankfully, it didn't take much more than seeing Leonardo's character sink below the water's icy depths before her own waterworks sprang a leak all down her cheeks. Then it became a matter of stopping once she'd started – which was a whole other trial unto itself.

After showering, dressing, and going out for a burger for lunch (to make up for the iron deficiency), she headed over to the Manor House with her satchel full of the required items, her mind excitedly hoping that tonight, Draco would finally be free of his curse.

A sobering thought pervaded, however, and slightly soured her good mood: would Malfoy still want her as a human, or was it all fun and games until their connection was severed by the counter-spell? Had he meant any of what he'd said, or was she just someone to talk and play with to help whittle away the hours? Gods, she prayed it wasn't a case of the latter. She thought that if it were, she would most likely be very heartbroken.

By mid-afternoon, she stood in the soft grass of the Manor House's expansive lawn to begin the making of the Greater Magick Circle for the ritual. Draco was outside in the sun with her (she needed him to sit still so she could mark the boundaries to correctly account for his size), and the way the light glimmered off of his opalescent scales was nearly blinding. He truly was an amazing specimen in this form, she had to admit.

Charlie, unfortunately, agreed. He stood nearby, setting up a wizard's camera, adjusting it to dim the 'sparkle problem.' Draco was behaving, as promised, but was having none of the wizard at his feet, refusing to look at him and she guessed intentionally turning his body in such a way to reflect the light directly into the red-headed wizard's eyes. "Bloody sun!" her consulting co-worker cursed, moving the camera tripod yet again. "Those scales of yours are just too reflective!"

_I'll give you anything you want, Granger, if you'll just let me sit on him. Once ought to do the trick. _

Hermione nearly dropped her stake-marker and burst out into laughter. "You know very well that isn't going to happen."

Charlie looked up from under the old-fashioned camera cloth. "What's not going to happen?" he blinked, concerned. "Is this asking too much of him?"

_Yes. _

"No," she answered, ignoring Malfoy entirely. He was acting like a petulant child, but it was simply too endearing to fiercely scold. She rather liked this playful side of him, honestly. Had he always been this way, even back in school? "He's just getting a little warm in the sun is all. I'm concerned about heat stroke."

Charlie blinked. Draco huffed.

"Heat stroke? He's a dragon!" her ginger-haired friend stated the obvious. "Reptiles love the sun."

Hermione's brow lowered. "He's a man, Charlie," she growled. "A man in his heart."

Two sets of eyes narrowed on her, but she only felt heat from one of them.

That same curious expression crossed Charlie's face. He let the camera go and stepped over to her. From her peripheral vision, Hermione caught the tensing of Draco's muscles and she prayed her red-headed wizard would not cause an unintentional scene. "'Mione, what's going on with you? You're different lately. You weren't so… hostile… towards me in Egypt."

A heavy chuff of expelled breath and the thumping of the tip of Draco's tail had her immediately on-edge for she felt the dragon's irritation literally writhe across her aura at the mention of the trip where she and Charlie had gotten together for the first time. She tried to keep her voice, face and body language as casual as possible, not wanting to alarm the Dragon-Tamer of the dragon's annoyance. "We shouldn't talk about such things while working," she countered, moving away, picking up her discarded picket from the spring grass. "It's very unprofessional. We can discuss it later."

_What's there to discuss? He wants you. I smell his lust rising again. _

Charlie followed her, oblivious to Malfoy's increasing, silent agitation. For a man attuned to dragons for so many years, he seemed completely unmindful that there was one weighing half the amount of an eighteen-wheeler truck sitting less than twenty-feet away, and that it was aggravated enough to make _pâté_out of him. "I think you'll just run again, and this is something we need to clear up before it's irreparable, 'Mione," he insisted, reaching her side and bending to his knees to be at eye-level with her. For her part, Hermione continued hammering her stake into the ground without looking up, consciously aware of how close Charlie was… and of a beast's warning growl in her head. "Have dinner with me tonight - before the moon rises, so we don't interfere with the spell. We need to talk about this," he requested, a sad catch to his voice.

_Don't! Don't be alone with him, princess. He'll try to kiss you. He'll try to take you to bed. I can smell his intentions. _

Heart slamming in her ribs, Hermione felt guilt wash over her, flushing her cheeks. She had been ignoring Charlie since their fight days ago, and that wasn't fair to him. But the truth was that he just wasn't the wizard for her, and it was difficult to tell him this truth. Her heart had found its home with Draco, and although that future was uncertain, and she was taking an awful risk of giving her feelings up to Malfoy when there existed the very real possibility of them not being reciprocated after tonight's spell was completed, she prayed for the best and would accept the consequences of her decision. It was for this reason that she needed to say goodbye to this good man properly so there wouldn't be hard feelings later. It wasn't right to leave him hanging like this, hoping for something that couldn't be.

Nodding, she sighed. "Just dinner, Charlie. Do you understand? We'll talk. There are things we need to clear up."

Draco sat up on all fours, his tail lashing around angrily.

_Granger, no. Don't do this. _

Her friend agreed with an easy nod. "Great. Six o'clock, then?"

_If you give him this chance, h-he'll take you away from me! _

Her dragon's voice trembled with a combination of panicked worry and nettling wrath.

_He'll seduce you! You'll give him your body and you'll fall in love with him! _

Guilt swamped her, for she could feel she was hurting Draco, and that was the last thing she wanted. She just wanted to make things right between her and Charlie, for they'd been friends long before this, and she didn't want to alienate him or the Weasleys, if she could help it. Yet, she also knew she was hurting her dragon by agreeing to a date with the greatest rival for his affections, and for some inexplicable reason, that suddenly meant more to her than anything else – even hurting Charlie's feelings.

Just as she was opening her mouth to retract her acceptance for the dinner date, Charlie made the one mistake she'd feared all afternoon he would: he reached out quickly, turned her head and kissed her on the lips.

Draco stood fully up on his back legs and screeched in fury. She and Charlie spun as one; staring up, up, up in awe at the creature that stood as tall as a four-story building. Parti-colored, polychromatic eyes looked upon the pair of them with rage.

_You let him touch you! You _wanted_ him to touch you, didn't you? _

"No, Draco, wait!" she tried, reaching out, wanting to explain.

He shrieked again and cut her off, and the sound was of screaming eagles falling from the heavens, loud enough to shake free the leaves from the nearby trees.

_Go ahead and fuck each other then! I didn't want you anyway! _

A large paw gripped the area over his dragon's heart, his claws rasping against the softer skin as he scraped hard enough to break through the hide and pierce his own flesh with razor-sharp talons. Draco hardly seemed to notice as fiery crimson blood immediately welled to the surface and dripped down his shimmering pearlized belly. It was both a beautiful and horrible sight to behold.

_I don't want th-this feeling anymore! I don't want it! _

He staggered once to the side, bracing himself on his left front leg as he came down heavily, his right paw still tearing at his chest.

_It hurts too much to love! Too much…_

Flapping those wide wings, and with a powerful launch of his back legs, he flew away as fast as he could, the trail of his pain lingering behind as a palpable stabbing in her heart. Hermione was taken off-guard by the almost unbearable backlash of anguish and fell forward, crying out as she grasped at her own chest.

Charlie caught her up in his burly arms. "Hermione, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"Draco," she whispered with a sob, closing her eyes, praying he could hear her. "I'm so sorry. It was only to say goodbye to him. I didn't mean it to be anything else. I want to be with you. Please don't leave me!"

Her friend's hiss of breath was loud. "Oh, holy hell - not good." He shook her, forced her to open her eyes and look at him. "Hermione, you said you were a virgin, right? You've never had sex with a man?"

It took her a minute to focus on his words, but she shook her head in answer. "No, I haven't."

Charlie swore then a rather foul curse. "He knows that, doesn't he? He sniffed it out on you at some point."

Shakily, she nodded.

"And he can touch you with his aura, can't he?" he knowingly appraised her.

With a trembling sob, she ran her hand over her cheeks. "Yes. What's happened? I don't understand any of it. We've been able to talk to each other across distances, and I feel him, as you said. It pains me when we're not together. Why does this hurt so much?"

Charlie sat back heavily and threw his face to the sky, closing his eyes tightly. "Oh, fuck me! You've mate-bonded. It all makes sense now."

Blinking in confusion, Hermione bit her bottom lip against the throbbing ache under her breast. "Mate-bonded? How could that happen? Malfoy's not really a dragon. He's human, just cursed."

Cupping her cheeks, her almost-lover put his forehead on hers and sighed, his frown deeply lining his weathered face. "Hermione, I know you usually get your facts as straight as a T-Square, but in this particular case, I think you're wrong. I really don't think that's Draco Malfoy at all. I think our Opaleye is a _real _dragon."

Her world spun to a decisive halt.

"What? What did you say?" She blinked, scoffing, pulling herself away from her friend's sudden bout of madness, as if it could be catching. "Of course he's Draco! Don't be ridiculous!"

Charlie sat back on his haunches and ran hands over his face for a moment, shaking his head in counter. "A man trapped in the body of a dragon might have the beast's strength and physical abilities, but I've been in contact with members of my Order and they all agree that a man caught in a spell to mimic the dragon's form _cannot_ mimic a dragon's magic. It just isn't possible. Many wizards and witches over the millennia have tried in a variety of ways, and every time, they fail. We humans can't wrap our auras around a dragon's magical resonance - it's on a completely different level, like a phoenix's or unicorn's. We can harness their magical essence through wand cores using pieces of them, but not through ourselves _directly_. Their magic is simply too potent. And no one trapped in the form of a dragon could accomplish a mate bond without such innate magic at his disposal. It just isn't possible."

On shaky legs, she rose to her feet and stared down at him. "What Order? What the bloody hell are you talking about? You're making no sense!"

Standing to his full height – which was only a few inches taller than she – Charlie sighed and pulled off his dark blue tee-shirt, turning about for her, showing off his dragon tattoo (she'd glimpsed it the few times they'd fooled around, but this was the first time she'd actually _looked _at it). It was a beautiful tribal outline of a curled dragon, crimson and black in color, and it rested across the back shoulder blade on his left side. "This isn't just a regular tattoo for fun, 'Mione. It's my mark of the Order of the Dragon. All Tamers are required to take a Blood Oath to protect the secrets of the dragons when we pass our apprenticeship stage and become a full-fledged member. But in this case, you need to know what you're facing, so I'm willing to accept the punishment from the Grand Master for divulging confidential information of the Order."

Turning about, he dropped his shirt to the ground and gripped her by the upper arms. "Listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you: everyone knows that dragons are the raptors of the reptile world – they're monogamous and mate for life. But people forget that they're _magical creatures_, not stupid beasts. They each have different abilities, depending upon the species. Some, like the Opaleye, we don't know much about because they are so naturally shy… but what we do know, those of us in the Order don't speak of to outsiders, because we know it would terrify them, and they'd hunt the dragons to extinction out of fear for what they can do."

He rubbed up and down her arms soothingly. "'Mione, what the Order knows, but the world at large doesn't, is that the Opaleye is a _shape-shifter_. It can take the form of anything it wants. Its evolved magic is defensive in nature, because the species are timid in general and don't like to be found or studied – which is why we have problems tracking them down. What _is _recorded about them is sporadic, but there have been a few dozen documented cases over the centuries of an Opaleye taking on _human form _and bonding to and mating a human woman. A virgin in every case. They can _interbreed _with us."

Her brows lowered in confusion. "So? Why is that such a big deal? No one has a problem with Veela doing the same thing," she contended.

Charlie shook his head. "You're wrong about that. Fleur doesn't like to talk about it, but I've seen myself some of the prejudice that comes with being a descendant of a Veela – and she's only a quarter that." He sighed. "Hermione, cross-species propagation is frowned upon by a lot of wizards and witches, even the more tolerant ones. You remember how accepting Dumbledore was? Even he felt it was too dangerous to allow dragons to take human mates and have children. That's why he tasked the Order when he was the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards to seek out any family lines attached to the dragons and to watch them carefully - not only for the protection of such individuals from potentially rabid blood purists, but because their progeny had the potential to be _incredibly _powerful. He was worried what would happen should a child born of a human and a dragon mating decide to give themselves over to the darker side of magic. There hasn't been such a union in over a century, and so far, there haven't been any recorded special abilities gained by the two offspring from that mating, nor any from any past matings before that, either, so thankfully no one has had to face that issue. But, still, in such cases, we in the Order have a standing order to destroy any half-breed dragons that threaten the wizarding world." He stared her hard in the eye. "'Mione, understand that Dumbledore had the complete support of the _whole _Confederation in the matter. Everyone in the know is afraid of such a union, because no one knows the limits of power that a half-breed dragon child could reach. Just because none in the past have been documented as having lost control and gone over to evil doesn't mean it couldn't happen."

Hermione's heart fell into winter. Had everything she'd ever believed about this world she'd been thrust into unwittingly been a lie? Or were such precautions warranted? What _would _happen if a dragon half-breed took up Voldemort's mantle? She shivered at the thought. Perhaps it was a good thing that the Order was the world's secret dragon policing unit after all.

"Why virgins in particular?" she asked, going back over in her mind what he'd said thus far. "You said every mating was with a virgin. That's a human moral value. It shouldn't matter to non-humans."

Her beau sighed. "It has nothing to do with morals. As you know, dragons have a weakness for ownership of the _unique_. Some of them hoard shiny objects, while others are fiercely protective of a hunting range or a specific cave or river. Opaleyes appear to have a weakness for purity. They're the dragons talked about in myth whenever a virgin – princess or otherwise - is the subject of a kidnapping."

Well, now the dragon's reaction when he'd found out she was a virgin made perfect sense.

Charlie spread his arm out, moving from left to right in a grand gesture. "The breed used to live all over the world at one time, but because of their timidity and dislike of conflict, they began dying out or migrating to other lands as they were pushed out of areas by human encroachment and more aggressive dragon species. Now, Opaleyes are only found in the wilds of Australia and New Zealand, the last lands to be colonized by settlers. It's their final bastion, and even that is becoming overcrowded for them. I think soon they may go the way of the dinosaur if we can't find a way to help them."

A sinking, slippery sensation at the bottom of her guts threatened to make Hermione sick-up her burger from earlier as she puzzled together what Charlie was implying. "So, let me just get this straight: basically, you're telling me that I've been tricked. That a wild dragon - one that belongs on the other side of the world from here, and that's just _happened _to crash-land smack in the middle of Malfoy Manor and taken up residence while its owners are away somewhere unknown - has been purposefully lying to me all along. He's been pretending to be Draco Malfoy for the sole purpose of forcing me to bond with him, so he can get eventually have my… my…"

She couldn't say it. She just couldn't.

Charlie's blue gaze filled with pity and sorrow. "Cherry? No, I don't think he's that deceitful. I've run across a lot of dragons in my time, and this one - he's smart, but not evil. You can sense it on his magical aura. I've had to do my share of killing evil dragons lately, and I can tell the difference." He shook his head. "Honestly, my instincts tell me that your dragon _thinks_ he truly _is_Draco Malfoy. I think, though, that he's a real Opaleye who was force-conscripted by Voldemort to serve as a shape-shifting spy during the war, hence the Dark Mark. But his species doesn't like conflict, so it's more than likely that he somehow escaped Voldemort's hold over him and he's been hiding out ever since, probably knowing what his chances were if he were caught with such a brand on his arm. We've found more than a few other species of dragons running about the U.K. over the last two years who had belonged to Voldemort's army. The Order has been tasked all this time by the Ministry to either take them back to their home ranges, or to destroy them if they had killed willingly during the war. That's why I've been called in as a 'consultant' any time a dragon case comes up – I'm their judge, jury and executioner."

She sniffed, floored by this news. "I had no idea. I just thought you offered to help because you liked dragons."

Her friend tightly pursed his lips. "I think your dragon has taken on Malfoy's persona to relate to you, and in doing so, he's learned everything about our customs, our manner of speech, and so has convinced himself that he _is_Draco Malfoy. And somewhere in the middle or maybe even from the start when he first met you, he bonded with you – a virgin - by accident."

She shook her head again firmly, refusing to believe it. "No, this all has to be a mistake!" Because if it wasn't… If it wasn't, then she'll have given her heart away to a beast.

Charlie shook her once. "This isn't a game, 'Mione. If this is true, it's a big deal. You need to consider the possibility, no matter how far-fetched. If that isn't Malfoy, but a real dragon, and he's bonded to you, there are serious consequences involved, as I've already explained."

"You're just hypothesizing," she reasoned. "You have no proof."

He tsk'd in frustration. "Remember the first day we saw him? You told me that he'd entered your mind, picked through your memories like a skilled Legilimens. You thought he was trying to remember who he really was, but I think he was looking for someone in your memories whom you might be able to relate to. He must have gotten the impression that Malfoy was somewhat important to you, and maybe he even recognized Draco from his time in Voldemort's recruit and latched onto that commonality. Who knows? In any case, in reaching out to make a connection with you, he'd unwittingly overridden himself in favor of the persona he'd adopted – and at the same time, begun the bonding process accidentally. Over time, he just became the man you wanted."

"But why?" she whispered, tears flooding her eyes as small things began to click together in her head - his inability to discuss a Hogwarts shared past with her, his odd nesting behavior with her, how animal instincts took over regarding touching and licking her, their weird connection across distance that had drug her back to his side in the middle of the night and despite her best efforts to ignore him then. And come to think on it, he'd never actually _stated _that he was Draco Malfoy when she'd come to the Manor House all those weeks ago, had he? It had been _her _who'd jumped to that conclusion from the few facts presented. Once she'd established his identity, it would have been easy to rifle from the memories he'd gathered from her head what he'd need to become the man she'd already thought him to be. Perhaps even the vision of what he looked like was nothing more than a fantasy he'd conjured up using images of Draco from her recollections and extrapolating. "Why did he try to talk to _me _to begin with, though?"

"Because he was trying to tell us that Voldemort forced him and he didn't want to be destroyed," Harry spoke quietly from behind her. "And he knew by reading your mind that you would take pity on him, and fight with everything you had to save him. It's in your nature to save lost causes."

She whirled about to face her best friend, surprised by his presence. How long he'd been standing there listening? She hadn't even heard him arrive. He looked haggard.

Her gaze shifted as a shadow stepped around Harry's side, and her heart clenched at the familiar sight of silver-blond hair, steely grey eyes, and patrician features that were so beautiful as an adult man that you wanted to weep just looking at him.

_Adonis. _

He was the same from the vision after all. But how was that possible?

"He's a dragon, Granger," the real Draco Malfoy spoke then, his voice weary, one elegant hand moving up to brush the long bangs from his eyes. "Weasley's right. He isn't human."

Her knees unexpectedly buckled and she slid to the ground, her shock overwhelming, and her tears suddenly unstoppable. "No. _NO! _" She wept brokenly. "Oh, gods! _Oh, gods! _"

Harry knelt at her side, wrapping his arms about her, holding her through the storm, for the first time being here for _her_, instead of the other way around. He waited until she quieted a bit to explain his findings. "Malfoy – the real one here – he said that Nott Sr. had orders from Voldemort to find your parents and bring them back to England to try to lure you out. That was during that year we were tracking Horcruxes. Nott was clever enough to follow you mum and dad's trail to Australia, figuring you'd use Muggle means to hide them, since you were Muggle-born. He couldn't find them once he got there, though, because you'd done a bang-up job of _Obliviating_ their memories. He _did_find an Opaleye, however, and he captured it instead. Voldemort was putting together an army of dragons, and Nott knew that if he came home empty-handed in the search for your parents, Tom Riddle would have made mincemeat pie out of him without something else of equal value to appease his anger."

"'When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,'" she stammered, clasping onto Harry's arms, resting her cheek against his chest. "It's just like Theo Junior said. I went to Azkaban and talked to him. He said his father always had a back-up plan. His _was_Dra- the dragon."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Voldemort… 'Mione, he marked your dragon and used him, just like Charlie had guessed." He looked down at her. "Malfoy and I Apparated here right when the dragon was taking off, and heard everything. Sorry for eavesdropping." He cleared his throat in clear embarrassment. "Anyway, your Opaleye refused to fight for the Dark Lord, and escaped by shape-shifting, hiding for months in the Malfoy dungeon by changing from one form to another to hide his presence. After the war was over, he was still down there, not knowing that Voldemort had been killed. Draco found him a few months later."

Over Harry's shoulder, she hesitantly looked up into an achingly handsome face, and felt her chest squeeze in response. And yet she knew, just by looking into these particular mercurial eyes that this wasn't _her_Draco, as there was no warmth in the wintry depths that stared back at her. "You saved him?" she asked, feeling eternally grateful to this boy-turned-man who had never done a nice thing in his life, really.

Malfoy snorted and crossed his arms, and his patented sneer graced his features. "He had his uses. He helped us clean up the place and was a good cook - once our house-elf showed him what to do and he stopped burning down the kitchen. And he liked clipping the roses." He smirked bitterly. "I fucking hated trimming the verge."

She stared up at her former rival and had a moment's realization. "You became friends with him."

A coy shrug. "He was a better conversationalist than the wall or the elf."

The vision of Malfoy standing before the mirror that her dragon had shown her now made sense. Somehow, he'd seen the real Draco after he'd taken a shower here at the Manor House, had observed the wizard shaving, and probably was studying his friend to learn all about human ways. She wondered how far that 'learning' really went. How much voyeurism did her dragon engage in back then, and did it stop at just looking?

"The two of you are alike, but… not," she noted sadly. "Why?"

Charlie sighed, reaching out to stroke her hair with a suntanned, freckled hand. "Because the slow bonding between you and the dragon made him change. He started out as this Malfoy, yes, but ultimately he became the man inside that you would want as a mate. I guess, in a way, you could say that he grew up to please you."

Feeling the heat glide up her cheeks, she chanced a gander at the real Malfoy. He met her gaze for a few, short seconds – enough time for her to glean that he was regretful that they didn't live in another time and place and could try for something themselves – but then he looked away. "Whatever. Just call him back so we can get this over with already."

"It's not that simple," Charlie countered sharply. Her once-potential boyfriend unhappily sighed. "He's bonded to her now, and he'll try to mate her as soon as he remembers who he really is." He looked down at Hermione with all sincere concern. "If he takes the blood of your virginity, you'll be mated for life. Opaleyes are no exception to the species' monogamy rule. 'Til death do you part."

Her eyes widened. "You mean here? Now?"

No one said anything, and it was clear what the answer was.

Hermione began shaking uncontrollably. "But-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, do you love him, Granger?" Malfoy crudely asked, throwing his hands up. "If so, just shag him and get it over with. He's a nice guy, just a little screwed up right now."

"He's not a _guy_," Harry reminded them all. "He's a dragon."

Draco did that little shrug again. "He seemed perfectly human to me, and I lived with him for almost a year and a half."

Charlie drew her attention again. "Also, you need to accept that you and any children you might have with him will be watched all your lives by the Order. If any of your kin threaten the community..." He left it unspoken, but the threat was clear. "You understand?

Hermione sighed. A lifetime of being closely scrutinized, or worse invasions of privacy. Could she handle it?

One little, niggling fact still bothered her about this whole scenario, though, and she deflected in an attempt to not have to think about sex and the future that lay before her just yet. "How come it hurt him to use Legilimency on him?"

Harry looked to Charlie, who looked to Malfoy. "What did you do to him?"

Slytherin's former Prince looked decidedly uncomfortable all of the sudden. "I gave him a book from my father's library on mind spells. He obviously found one he liked and cast it on himself."

Harry gave him a disdainful eye roll, Charlie tsk'd, and Hermione just wanted to hear the rest of the story, so kept her opinion to herself – for now.

"Hey, don't blame me," Malfoy defended himself. "The wanker said he didn't want to have anyone figure him out if they decided to go poking around in his head with Legilimency. He wanted to stay as a human because he liked our world better and didn't want to go back to being a dragon in Australia. Something about being lonely over there and it being too crowded for his tastes. I just gave him what he asked for." He absently waved a hand towards his house in the background. "Of course, that was a day or two before all hell broke loose here. If it wasn't for Nott figuring out how to get through the wards and chasing us clear to France, dragon-boy would have been fine. That Death Eater prick got him roaring angry when-" He stopped, swallowed, seemed to struggle to keep himself together. He looked out at the horizon, refusing to meet anyone's eyes and was silent for a dozen heartbeats. "When he killed my mother," he finished, his voice tight with obvious pain. "Your beast blew his fucking marbles then and changed back into his real body." He looked down at Hermione, grinning like a shark, shunting off his own hurt by twisting it into cruel enjoyment at another's expense, per typical _modus operandi_. "He ate Nott, you know." He lifted his hands and mimicked chewing on a piece of corn. "Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. It was _fucking beautiful. _The bastard screamed the whole time."

"Yeah, right, what happened then?" Harry interrupted, annoyed, clearly having reached his end with Malfoy's antics.

Draco shrugged, losing his momentary sick enjoyment from the re-telling of Nott's demise. "He buggered off screaming, blood all over the place. Flew towards the setting sun. That was the last I saw of him."

Hermione put it together. "He came back here to the place he'd loved best. To the place he'd decided to call home - his nest."

"In his enraged state, combined with the bloodlust from rending Nott limb from limb, he must have lost the human aspect of himself and reclaimed the beast," Charlie guessed. "And when he came into contact with us - with _you_," he tugged on Hermione's hair. "He was drawn to your pure aura, and regained his higher rationality."

"He must have realized he'd be in trouble for killing Nott, then," Harry conjectured. "That's probably why he reached out and asked you to save him, 'Mione."

She considered all she knew, thinking back to that first day. "He'd read my mind, so he knew I worked on the dragon cases with the Division. He knew I was fighting for the safeguarding and keeping of dragons that were to be captured by the Ministry. I was a good fit, all around, to giving him what he needed."

"And he bonded to you unconsciously as you worked towards that aim together. He may be a dragon outside, but he fell for you as a man inside would, sweetums," Charlie tied it all up neatly. He knelt at her side, brushing the hair off her cheek fondly. "Now it's only a question of deciding what you want. What are you going to do? Call him back, or let him go?"

"I thought you said it was too dangerous for a human to mate with a dragon," she tested his veracity.

Charlie shrugged. "I never said that _I_ held to such beliefs," he stated amiably. "I said _others_did. If you can live with such prejudice, then all the power to you both, I say. It sucks for me, but I just want you to be happy, 'Mione. That's all I've ever wanted."

She hesitantly looked up at Harry, seeking his opinion. He simply shrugged. "Dumbledore might have been worried about cross-species stuff, 'Mione, but if there was one thing he stood for, it was the belief that love overcomes _all_boundaries. I tend to agree, so if you want it, I say you should go for it."

Almost afraid to glance over at the last person on the planet she should be considering asking for advice, but knowing him to be the least prejudiced by any affection for her (meaning, he would give an objective opinion), she turned her eyes up to her one-time adversary and raised a brow in questioning.

Malfoy's grin was slow and evil. "Two virgins fucking on my front lawn? This should be stunning."

She blinked in surprise at his revelation.

"Oh, I offered him one of my witches in those _long, lonely_months he hung out here," the Slytherin git drawled in amusement, "but he said he was waiting for the right girl to give it up to."

Wow. That was probably the nicest thing the _real _Draco Malfoy had ever said – _would_ever say – to her, Hermione realized. She gave him a beatific smile in appreciation. "Thank you."

His white teeth glimmered in the sunlight as a sinful, shite-eating grin sprung from ear-to-ear. "So, I can watch, right?"

Before disentangling from Harry to stand up, Hermione gave him the two-fingered salute and was answered with a wicked snicker.

Stepping away from the others, she paced for a bit, working up her nerve. He was going to mate her – today - in a few minutes, in fact (if he agreed to come back at all). They were going to have sex. How did she feel about that?

Her heart was calling for her dragon, magically induced or not. She ached for him.

Right, she _wanted _to do this!

Turning in the direction he'd flown off, she closed her eyes and held out her arms, searching for their special connection and feeling it still in place in her heart and mind. He hadn't abandoned her, despite his claim to the contrary. "Come back to me," she entreated, following the magical path of their bond, exciting it, tugging on it in a reversal to compel him this time. "Come home. I accept you."

There was no answer for the average length of time a person can reasonably hold their breath before passing out (which Hermione actually did as she waited and waited for a response). She did, however, feel a gentle probing through her thoughts, as her memories of the last few minutes were sifted through by an unseen magical force. She allowed it to happen, relaxing and letting her dragon glide through her mind as necessary, and she held onto hope.

_I'm not human. _

She smiled, expelling her breath in a rush and letting her lungs resume their natural pattern of life. "I know. It's all right with me. But at least now we know why every spell we tried on you failed - because you didn't need to be changed back. You were already in your correct form. "

_I remember who I am and what's happened by sharing your thoughts. Your friends were clever to have figured it out. _

She waited in silence as he seemed to struggle to find the right words.

_I never intended to trick you. Please believe that. _

"I do," she reassured him."I know it was all an accident. Your unconscious mind chose Malfoy because you recognized him - your good friend - of all the people I'd known in my life when you went through my memories. And by becoming him – a person I was attracted to physically - it would assure we made a connection; we'd have a commonality from where you could begin to plead your case and not have to keep running." She smiled good-humoredly. "But, I also think you chose him because you wanted to be like him. You wanted to experience being human. Who better to impersonate than an attractive wizard with magical abilities, money, influence and a harem of girls hanging about?"

_It wasn't a harem, actually. He'd only ever had one or two women over the whole time I lived with him. He exaggerates his prowess. _

At least he was playing with her. That was a good sign.

_But, yes, it would seem that you know me better than I know myself, my princess. I wanted to be human more than anything. Your world is exciting. I lived more in the year and a half I nested with my friend and his mother than I had in all the years since my hatching. I would give anything to stay here now - to stay with you. _

"Then come back to me," she offered, stretching her arms out, her eyes still tightly closed. "You can stay with me for always."

He paused, clearly nervous.

_I'm not a human, Hermione. I'm a dragon. No matter how much I may wish to live with your kind, I still have my… instincts… which I cannot overcome. I'm still the dragon in my heart, no matter the face I wear. Do you understand? _

Nodding, she reached for him with her mind. "I understand."

_Are you sure? Can you live with me - a beast walking as a man? _

"I rather like the animal side of you. And besides, this way, you can fit into my flat," she teased, beaming. Her smile slid from her lips as she spoke to him seriously then, from her very soul. "I'm not afraid of you or what you are. I know there will be difficulties. We'll face a world against us. But, I _really _believe we can work it all out. Like Harry said, I believe love can overcome anything. Will you trust in that with me?"

_I will. _

She opened her eyes and waited, knowing he was returning to her side. A soft breeze blew her hair about her, and she watched with a calm sort of acceptance as a slow speck in the distance became larger. He landed minutes later, expanded his wings and then folded them under and sat on his haunches, staring at her with those mesmerizing eyes. The wound on his chest appeared to have been magically healed and his scales cleaned.

_Do you accept our bond? _

Her heart went still, and for the first time, she felt no hesitation to give everything to this dragon – her dragon. "Yes, I accept the bond. Do you?"

_Yes. _

There was an odd shimmering, and the opalescent light shrunk smaller and smaller, until it flashed away – to reveal her dragon in human form, dressed in human clothing – dark charcoal dress slacks, white dress shirt, no shoes or socks. He was a clone of the real Draco Malfoy in every physical way, but the eyes… there would never be eyes as wonderful as _his_.

He stared at his fingers, clenched and unclenched them, kicked his knee out slightly, pressed down on the balls of his feet, remembering how to move as a human. The breeze stirred his long, platinum bangs into his eyes and he brushed them aside, the movement so human and innocent it made her ache.

"Hey, couldn't you find another face to copy?" the 'real' Draco growled across the distance at his doppelganger. "The last one you wore was perfectly fine."

Her dragon's smirk and voice was perfectly Malfoy-ish in their smarmy reply. "She likes this face." His gaze turned to her and the smile became hot, predatory. "And this body."

He moved so swiftly then that the ground between them was eaten up in a second, and then he was inches from her face. "Hello, my princess," he seductively greeted her, reaching out with a trembling hand to touch her cheek and closing his eyes, shuddering when their skin contacted. "It feels so good to finally touch you without worrying about breaking you." His lids opened to half-mast and burned with lust. "Human touch is so different - so much better." His fingers ran across her jaw to smooth into her hair and he tightly gripped the curls in a fist, pulling her body intimately into his. "Softer than silk." He brought the tresses up to his nose and deeply inhaled, sighing in pleasure, hungrily staring at her. "I'm going to mate you, Hermione."

Her stomach clenched, and her body moistened. "I know." She reached up to stroke her fingers over his cheek and he leaned into the touch, letting out a sound that suspiciously resembled a purr from the center of his chest.

"Slytherin's bollocks!" Malfoy snarled. "It was a joke! I don't really care to see your naked arses fucking on my front lawn!" He waved a hand towards the manor. "Go inside or something. Just don't screw in my room. Take your old one, you wanker."

The man-dragon looked over at his mirror twin. "Thank you," he smiled with true happiness. "Your kindness shall be repaid a hundred-fold later."

The original Malfoy snorted. "Whatever. Just fix the bloody hole in my roof I hear you made and we're even. And find another name to use if you're going to insist on looking like my sibling. 'Draco Malfoy' is taken."

Her dragon chuckled, and it was that erotic sound that whipped through Hermione's spine like finely caressing satin. "As you wish." Wrapping his arms about her waist, he turned all of that delicious attention upon her. "Hold on, love."

She wrapped her arms about his neck and they magically moved in an Apparation that was soundless and as comfortable as stepping out from one room into another.

**X~~~~~X**

Their first real kiss was enough to melt her insides, to make Hermione pliable to his every whim - which was just as her dragon wanted. He effortlessly lifted her around the waist and moved them towards the bed, walking with her as if she were no more a burden than a quill feather.

A sudden thought popped into her head. "Your name," she gasped in between his frantic shucking of their clothing. "What do I call you?"

With casual nonchalance, he shrugged those broad, muscled shoulders of his. "I'm your dragon," he answered as his mouth hungrily ate at hers. "Call me anything you want, but this is all I know how to be." He ripped her shirt down the middle when he didn't want to disconnect their mouths long enough to pull it over her head. "Do you mind the face?"

Her hands shook as she reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it. "Don't care," she breathlessly replied. "You'd look good no matter what to me. How about Adon?"

Their matching grins were a sight to behold.

"Adon Malfoy it is, then," he easily agreed, lapping at the side of her neck. "But I want you to scream out 'Adonis' when you orgasm for me," he wickedly chuckled.

Hermione thrust her tongue into his mouth and wantonly licked. "Adon…" she whispered, burning up. Every inch of her skin was fired with nerves, all begging for her dragon's touch and fulfillment. "Is this part of the mating? This need that's… _oh, gods_, it's _killing _me! I just want to press into you and rub. I want your scent all over me."

He nodded, tearing her bra with the same efficiency as he had her shirt, tossing the shredded garment onto the floor with their growing pile of clothes. "I need to lick you, suck you, lay my scent upon you, and fuck you hard, Hermione," he snarled, his mouth lapping at every inch of her skin that he could with desperation. She tilted her head this way and that to accommodate his desires. "I _need _to claim you as mine. I don't think I can be gentle. I'm sorry." He slammed down on her mouth again, taking and giving with equal ferocity.

She gasped as his mouth traveled low once more, clamping over her nipple and drawing it into the cavern of his moist, hot mouth, sucking hard. "Don't be. I want that, too," she gasped as her hands tore at the button on her Muggle jeans, and with shaking fingers, unzipped herself. Squirming out of her pants, though was harder than she thought with Adon's head bent to her other breast, attacking it with the same brutal efficiency as the other, leaving love bruises behind on both areolas. His fingers skimmed all over her hips and back, gliding over her lightly perspiring flesh, and when he got on his knees before her, and ripped her jeans down to her ankles, tearing her knickers into pieces and tossing them away, she thought she would cream all over herself.

The first swipe of his tongue through her soaked slit sent Hermione into the sky, and she orgasmed, grabbing a hold of that soft, white-gold hair and shoving her quim into his face. "Oh, oh, _OH! _" she wailed as he lapped at her with instinctual need.

He didn't give her much time to come down from that small, pleasant surprise before turning her and simultaneously dumping her onto the bed, his mouth still buried between her legs, licking and sucking her labia, teasing her clit, following the same path she'd taken when she'd touched herself that night in her bed with him mystically watching from afar. Apparently, he'd meticulously studied her moves, for he mimicked them now with perfect precision.

He pulled her shoes, socks and what remained of her dangling jeans off her body all the while, maneuvering his own clothes off at the same time.

Lost in a haze of sultry need, desperate and sticky and _so bloody ready _for feeling him come inside her, she reached for her lover, pulling on his hair with gentle insistence. "Adon, _please! _Now!"

Fully naked for the first time before her, her dragon leaned over the bed and urged her to scoot into the center, straddling her with his much bigger, well-defined body. He was shaking as much as she was with the need and nervous anticipation, and she hardly had time to note his face covered with her juices before he leaned down to capture her lips in a hungry kiss.

There were no words, as he parted her thighs wider with an insistent nudge of his knees, and grabbed her hips. His thick, dripping cock slid between her drenched lower lips and nudged her entrance. He nuzzled her throat, and bit down with pressure over her pulse, right as he slid into her tight, clenching vagina. Her flesh was pierced twice, and blood was freely given from both points as sharpened canines sank into her, indelibly marking her neck at the same time as her virginity tore and parted for him. She screamed with the pleasure-pain, and wrapped her arms about him, feeling the mating magic thunder between them, permanently binding their auras up together.

He immediately came inside her, unable to wait, his groan of pleasure muffled against her, his body shuddering and shooting its seed deep inside her in a flash bringing.

There were only a few more moments of respite for her to adjust to being breached, and for him to relax a bit from his first orgasm, before their combined eagerness to continue coupling vibrated along the tether that held their hearts captive to each other, and as one, they eventually began moving. He was still _so hard_, and she could feel through their connection that the fire within him had not been quenched, and that he needed to fill her again and again tonight before the mating would let them go.

That sounded like a perfect plan as far as she was concerned.

Lifting his mouth from her bloodied shoulder, sealing the wound with magic, Adon's lips found hers and feasted once more as he glided between her legs with powerful, complete strokes. With an equal ardor, her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts. They gasped loud and unrestrained against each other, their lips and hands everywhere, her heels pressing into his backside for deeper penetration.

"I love you," he asserted in between kisses, casting aside any possible doubt as to his feelings. "I love you with all my soul, Hermione."

Tears poured from her eyes, saturating her hair, wetting their cheeks as they pressed together. "I love you, too, my dragon." She gasped and thrust upwards as his pounding sped up, the strength of it increasing. "I love you with every part of me. You are my heart."

His corded arms held him up from crushing her as he began slamming into her with power. "Yes, princess, fuck me - love only me," he coaxed between gritted teeth, as all of his muscles tensed up along with hers as they crested the wave of boundless fulfillment. Sweat dripped off of their straining, reckless bodies, slicking their skins, and the bed loudly creaked, its cries mingling with hers as she shouted to the ceiling her mounting pleasure.

"That's it, Granger. Call for me," he coerced. "Give me everything."

"Yes, yes, yes, _harder_…" she begged, teetering on the edge, every muscle tight and ready to explode. "Ooh, Adon… _my dragon! _" she screamed, grabbing her lover's hips and digging her nails in, scoring his flesh, climaxing so hard that she swore her heart burst in her chest, and that her world turned upside down, and that Nirvana called her home.

Adon groaned through the velvet, warm rush of her release, and roughly pumped in and out of the seizing muscles of her cunt several more times before tumbling over the abyss with her and calling out to her to save him once more. _"Hermione!" _He came in wave after wave of hot, spurting ejaculate that filled her, drenched her core, and seeped out between them to bathe them both in a combination of their perfumed, wet sex.

They remained locked together, just like that – him arched high, pushed up taut on his palms, his pelvis sealed to hers, and her with her hands pressed to his solidly-defined chest, her legs locked around his waist, her back slightly arched to take him all in – and they stared at each other in silence, both trying to calm their breathing, regain control of their roaring blood, poignantly aware that they were now and always would be spiritually joined.

Hermione moved first, her spine relaxing, her hand moving up her beloved's body to feather his cheek. He leaned into the caress, rubbing against her palm.

"I truly love you," she whispered, the tears leaking from her eyes. "Will you stay with me? Now that I'm no longer pure, do you still want me?"

Lazy, multi-colored eyes shined in the dimness of the curtained room, the slowly sinking afternoon sun peaking through the slits to provide a modicum of light by which to see each other. "You're my mate, Hermione. I'll live and die with you."

She understood what he was giving up by accepting this bonding with her – Antipodean Opaleye dragons could easily live several hundred years, maybe quite a bit more, yet he was choosing a mortal life for her sake. Guilt merged with selfish gratefulness. "Why?" she whispered.

Gripping her hand and bringing it to his lips, he kissed her fingertips, and looked into her soul with those strange, compelling eyes of his. "Because you are my most cherished friend, who makes me laugh and comforts me, and because you are so beautiful to look at that I ache for you all the time, and because you fulfilled your promise to save me and now I can stop running in fear, and start living again with hope." Placing her hand over his strongly beating heart, he smiled. "With you, I will never be lonely. With you, my princess, I have found my dragon's greatest treasure: a future filled with peace and joy. You own my loyalty and my love forever. I am yours."

They exchanged softly spoken vows of devotion then, in between sweet kisses, and they made love again and again throughout the night, their cries echoing down the halls of the Manor House without concern as they reveled in their eternal binding. It was a beautiful mating, filled with promise for a long and wondrous future, and Hermione realized as she crested the wave of another beautiful bringing that her once-lonely heart had been saved, too - by her Opaleye dragon's love.

_**~FIN~**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the twist this tale took there at the end.**

**The legal maximum weight of an eighteen-wheeler truck can be no more than forty-tons (80,000 lbs.). **

**Four stories tall = 40 feet (4 x 10 feet for every story on average).**

'**When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, ****however improbable****, must be the truth.' – from **_**Sherlock Holmes: The Sign Of The Four **_**by****Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**I threw in some covert hommages in this fic to the following movies: "Ghostbusters" and "Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring." See if you can find those references!**

**Adon = said "**_**Ae-donn**_**" (like 'Aiden,' only with an 'o' sound, instead of an 'e')**


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